That Night
by Antipodean Opaleye Dragon
Summary: The night that Sherlock "died", he went to visit a friend, well, I say friend. When Irene Adler hears about the death of Sherlock Holmes, she is heartbroken. So, she sends a text. Imagine her shock when it gets a reply. Story is better than the summary, I promise! Rated M for smut, and thank you to Abigail who co-wrote this with me! Read and Review please!
1. Chapter 1

Irene sighed as she walked home from a rather tiring client. She pulled out her phone and checked it for any messages; nothing. She sighed, slightly relieved and slightly annoyed. She would be alone again tonight, as usual.

She walked back along the Thames, the moonlight shining across the river, dancing on the waves. She swallowed, for some reason looking out at the Thames at night always reminded her of _him._ Probably because of that text she had sent him that one night she had been gazing at the the round disc in the night sky. She choked back a sob as she thought of his death earlier that day. She had heard about it from an inside source-an eyewitness to be exact. She couldn't believe it. The man she loved was dead. And she had never told him.

Their last night together, in Karachi, had been awkward and tense, ultimately, bitter. They had each exchanged parting words of hate and resentment, fear and pride both paralysing them from saying the words they truly had wanted to say. Or at least she had truly wanted to say. _Sentiment; _what a heartbreakingly annoying thing.

She bit her lip and willed herself to not cry. She would not shed tears of him, she couldn't. Because if she did, it would be real; he would be dead. Denial-denial was good. She could do denial.

She turned away from the river and headed back to her Belgravia flat. She had managed to get it after she returned to London. Number 44. She smirked sadly as she let herself in, recalling the day they had met.

Sherlock sighed as he watched her walk along the riverside. She was beautiful in the silver lighting, the light accenting her features like that of Venus, the Roman Goddess, not that he could ever tell anybody that. He was meant to be dead, and it was only to protect those that he... cared for, that he was hiding.

A gentle breeze of night air brushed past him as she entered her flat, the same one that she had on that fateful day, the day he met the woman who beat him. As the door closed behind her, he reached into his coat pocket, fingering the phone that he always kept on him. Should he text her, communicate with her in some way that he was still alive? Shaking his head, he withdrew his hand again. He had to resist the urge, he must not let his emotions cloud his judgement and goal. No one could know that he was alive until Moriarty's circle had been taken out.

Irene sighed as she walked into her empty town house and switched on the light. She threw her coat on a nearby chair and grabbed her phone from her purse. She crossed the the same couch he had sat on when she first laid eyes on him, blinking back tears, yet again. She bit her quivering lip as she texted him, knowing he would never again respond...not that he ever_ really_ had before...but the possibility...the hope she had always carried, was gone, forever now. "Hello Mr Holmes... IA"

His hand flashed to his coat as an erotic moan emitted from it. Heart pounding rapidly, although it was irrational for him to be nervous from a single text, he unlocked the phone, only to see the words that seemed to tear a hole in his soul "Hello Mr. Holmes... IA". At that, he felt his resolve crumble, for those words, along with the vision of the figure that he had seared into his mind, forced his hand against his mental will. Flipping to the keyboard, he typed out "Hello again, Miss Adler. ~SH", but before he could press SEND, his mind took control once again and forced him to delete the message. He had to remember the mission, why he was doing this. Tears welled in his shocking blue eyes, though, as he stared at the message. Brushing an onyx curl from his line of sight, he placed his phone back in his pocket and took a deep breath in order to calm his raging nerves.

She closed her eyes, her hands holding her phone tightly against her chest. She took a deep breath as she felt the knot in her throat grow. She swallowed, taking her phone down and looking at it in her lap. She picked it up, "We never did get have diner...Shame...I suppose I'll be eating alone, from now on. IA" She pressed send as hot tears began to pour down her face.

Mentally cursing as that moan that haunted his dreams and thoughts emitted from his coat once more, he couldn't resist pulling the accursed object from his pocket. Unlocking the phone once more, he read the newest text. At this, he could no longer control himself and flipped to the keyboard. Typing a quick message of "I'm not dead. ~SH" he quickly pressed SEND before stowing the phone back in his coat and turning to walk off, the moonlight shining on his pale face.

Irene froze as she felt her phone vibrate in her lap. She looked down at the tear-stained screen of her phone and let out a choked gasp. She shook her head, it couldn't be...It had to be some sort of joke...someone must have ripped his phone off of his body, one of Moriarty's men no doubt. She narrowed her eyes, blinking through tears as her breath hitched with hope, hope she knew she had to kill, "Prove it. IA"

As his phone signaled once more that she had replied, he tried to ignore it. Never had he ignored a text, even if he didn't reply to it. Cursing himself once more, he pulled the phone out and flipped it open. Staring at the two words on the screen, he began an internal battle with himself. On one side, he had to protect the people that were being targeted, but on the other hand, he felt something towards this woman that he had never felt before, and according to Moriarty, she was not one of the people targeted by his men. Pressing the buttons at a rapid pace, he sent a text back to her before turning to face the house again. "Come outside. ~SH"

She bit her lip debating with herself internally. Was it safe? Was this a ploy to finally get her head? She Stood up and crossed to the window, glancing down the street. She gripped her phone, "I'm not about to risk my life if this is a trap. Prove it. Tell me something that is known only between us. IA"

Smirking slightly at the reply, he admired her perceptions. Thinking back to everything the two had shared, he typed out one six word text, hoping to get her attention. He then turned the volume on full as an attempt for her to hear when he got the reply. "I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. ~SH"

Irene nearly dropped her phone as she brought a hand up to cover her gasp. Her breathing increased as tears of joy, frustration, anger, heartbreak, love, and most of all utter and sheer relief, rolled down her cheeks. "Come inside. _Now_. IA"

Smiling at the reply, a real smile, he placed the phone back in his coat before walking up the steps of the flat and turned the door handle, opening it without a sound. Stepping in, he removed his coat and hung it on the rack before entering the sitting room, laying eyes on the one he loved.

Irene heard the door open before his footsteps clicked across the wooden floor of the foray to the living room. She closed her eyes, as her forehead pressed against the cool, glass of the pane. She took a deep breath before slowly turning to glance at him. Her heart jumping at the sight. Her lip quivered as her eyes scanned his matted hair, covered in what looked like dried blood, and dirt. Her brow furrowed as a pained expression erupted on her face as the mental image of his long body splayed out on the cement. She swallowed, "Mr Holmes, I presume." She whispered, praying her voice didn't sound too choked. She wiped her eyes quickly, wondering if he could tell she had been sobbing over him. She hoped not, though to be honest, at this precise moment, she didn't give a rat's ass about the mask she had come to wear in front of him. Her mask of self-preservation and sentimental protection.

"Miss Adler." He said, a sob of relief and sorrow cracking his voice. He couldn't bear to see those beautiful, intelligent eyes fill with tears, especially when they are caused by him. '_Tear tracks, redness around her eyes, slightly frizzy hair due to a raised body temperature, irritation of the cheeks from where she whipped them with her hand, as evident with the moisture already residing there_" conclusion, she was crying over him. That realization tore his heart in two. All he had wanted to do was to protect those he cared for from harm, and he ended up being the cause of it. His resolve breaking, he rushed forward and pulled her into his strong arms, burying his face in those brown locks that he so longed for. He felt himself relax as he was surrounded by her familiar, comforting scent.

Irene clutched to him as if her life depended on it-hell, it did. She nuzzled her face against his chest, as she broke down completely. Her body and shoulders shaking as she sobbed against his chest. "Sherlock...Oh...Sherlock." She muttered, her hands clawing at him.

Finally, the tears poured down his face as he heard her voice. He felt her hot tears stain his shirt, but at that moment, he couldn't care less. He whispered words of comfort and reassurance as he cried into her hair. Clutching her tighter, he felt her fingernails clawing at his back, but he relished in the feeling, for it gave absolute proof that she was there and real, not a dream that haunted him like a taunt.

She pulled back slightly, her vision blurred by the moisture in her eyes. She searched his, her face contorting as a rush of emotions flooded across her face. Suddenly a flush of anger stabbed her heart; anger for not having warned her ahead of time. Anger for what had happened that night in Karachi-for what _hadn't _happened that night-for all the heartbreak and sentiment and love he unknowingly had taught her. She whipped her hand across his left cheek. Her hand stung, but she didn't address it. She hardened her lips into a thin line as she spat, "How could you!?"

Shock and stinging pain registered in his mind as he felt an impact on the side of his face. She had slapped him, which, given the circumstances, was understandable in of its own. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her to the white couch and sat her down, before explaining everything that had happened leading up to it, and why he had to fake his own death. "... So, do you understand now? I have to protect my friends, and the only way I can do that is if they believe that I am dead while I, and a few of Mycroft's men, get rid of Moriarty's circle. Please, I beg your forgiveness. I only had your protection and safety in mind. As for the night in Karachi; I was afraid. I have never felt for anyone, or anything, like I feel for you, and I was unsure of how to act on them. I realize now that I had nothing to fear and I should have acted, not on intellect, but on instinct, something I, as you should know, struggle with. Please, forgive me. I am so sorry, Irene."

Irene listened to his words, her face hard at first but slowly, as he went, it softened. She knew how hard this was for him. How strong his pride was. How weak being so sentimental probably made him feel. Her eyes darted between his as she nodded slowly as he finished, she brought a hand to smooth out the redness with the pad of her thumb. She leaned up and pressed her lips against his. Their very first kiss. She kept it chaste, though her tongue longed to slide between his lips and explore that wonderfully sarcastic mouth of his. She pulled back slightly, as she finally said the three words she had so longed to say that night, "I love you, Mr Sherlock Holmes. God help me, but I do."

Shocked at the kiss, though he did not mind at all, he pressed his forehead to hers, gently cupping her face with a slender, yet strong hand, and whispered the words he had longed to say since he had come to terms with his emotions. "And I love you, Ms Irene Adler. God can do nothing now, because I am never leaving you again. Never" and with those words, he pressed his lips to hers, this time with force.

Irene felt a deep fire erupt from the centre of her being, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She moaned against his lips as climbed on top of his lap, straddling it with her thighs. She snaked her hands up and curled her fingers in his bloodied locks, not caring how dirty or stained she got her lavish dress. She pressed her chest against his as her arse ground against his groin. She thrust her tongue into his mouth hungrily.

Quickly adjusting to wrap his arms around her, Sherlock moaned into her, an unknown fire lighting in the pit of his stomach. No longer did he care about the circle, or keeping the ones he loved safe from harm, all that mattered at that moment was the woman in his lap. Soon enough, his mind shut down, allowing his body to control all actions, and he soon found himself grinding upwards, his clothed erection rubbing against her, creating a beautiful friction.

She explored his mouth, ravishing it with her own, as their tongues danced. The kiss was sloppy and elementary, Sherlock being inexperienced and all, but it was the best kiss she had ever experienced in her life. It was full of passion, and need, and lust, and most of all, pure and utter love for the other. She pulled back, and eyed him darkly, taking his hand in hers, "Bedroom? Unless you fancy losing your virginity at the very place we first met...quite unconventional." She smirked, raising a saucy brow.

Forcing his mind to work through the heavy cloud of lust, he thought of what she had said, and, without replying, lifted her up with him as he stood. "Where is the bedroom?" he forced out, nuzzling her neck.

She got up and pulled him after her, "Upstairs where it was last time." She teased, eyeing the tent in his trousers with a grin. "Someone's happy to see me." She winked, leading him up the stairs to her room.

Ignoring the teasing nature of her voice, he followed her up the stairs and down the extensive hallway. Stopping at the third door on the left, he watched as she pushed it open quickly. The room was large, though the space was dominated mainly by the four poster bed, located in the center. The room was dark, only lit by the moonlight that filtered through the bay window.

Irene squeezed his hand as she walked him in the room, turning around to shut the door before turning back to face him. She smiled softly at him, talking a few steps to meet his form. She reached a hand up to stroke his cheek gently, "I want this to be perfect. Your first time-_our_-first time should be perfect and everything you want it to be." She murmured sweetly.

Pressing his lips to hers once more, he muttered to her "I am with you, and that in of itself makes all of this perfect" before grabbing her hand and leading her over to the bed. It was true, he had never felt the way that he feels for her, and because of that, the mere fact that he was with her, made it perfect.

Irene slipped off her heels, her petite 5'3 figure making him seem even taller than he actually was. She blushed at the height difference before turning around, "Mind unzipping my dress?" She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a wink.

Without a word, he moved his hand up her curved side before gently pulling the zipper down, ending at the gentle curve of her back. Once that was done, he stepped back, his long fingers working at the tight buttons of his purple shirt. Pulling that from his arms, he looked at her again. The light from the window fell directly on her figure, illuminating her, creating a glow, much like one would expect on an angel.

**_Beginning of Sex. Skip down to next bold part if you don't want to read it._**

She forgot that she was wearing some of her most revealing and seductive undergarments; black, sheer, lace knickers that cut high on her pale cheeks, not quite a thong but very close, and a matching black lace bra, that was also quite sheer, her now hard nubs of flesh straining against the fabric. The look was completed with a pair of her trademark black thigh high stockings, a black seam line running up the the back of her legs. They were attached to a garter belt that matched her knickers, the straps hugging her thighs tightly. She bit her lip and blushed, though she wasn't sure why. She was a dominatrix after all, she had used to live to tease him with such an outfit, having choose to wear her battle dress the first time they met. However, something about this moment was utterly different. Of course it was. They had finally admitted everything that they felt for the other. And Love was a dangerous game neither of them had ever played...it only made sense. She looked up at him, "Sorry, I had a client..." She mumbled, secretly praying that he was enjoying the show, and might be intrigued by that darker side of her.

The vision of the woman he loved in sheer lace undergarments nearly sent his mind into overdrive, but he was able to control himself. Stepping forward, he placed his hands upon her hips, pulling her flush against him, leaning his forehead to meet hers. "You look absolutely ravishing." he muttered. He did not mind that she had had a client that day, because that was the way she made her living, much like how he solved crimes and risked his life every day. Pressing his lips to hers, he reached behind her and slowly undid the clasp of her bra, pulling it down her arms. Turning the both of them around, he walked her back to the bed, laying them both down when they reached it. Pulling back, he saw a sight that he will forever remember; the Woman, in all of her glory, lay beneath him. Her hair was splayed out like a dark halo, intensifying the luscious cream color of her skin; she was beautiful.

She gazed up at him, running hands down his smooth, pale, hairless chest. She bit her lip as a smile cracked over her face, "Dear Lord, is this really happening? Are you sure you're not just a dream? I can't tell you how many times I've pleasured myself, thinking about this very moment." She husked, darkly, unable to help herself from confessing such a private and intimate secret.

Smiling, he looked deep into her slate eyes. "I assure you, I am very much so real, this is not a dream. And I too, have... pleasured myself with thoughts of you." he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Pressing his lips upon hers once more, he felt the fire igniting again, brighter than before. Dragging on hand up her smooth stomach, resting gently on the soft curve of her breast. His eyes slid shut, relishing in the sensations surrounding him.

Irene's eyes shot up in mild surprise at his words followed by a high gasp as he finally touched her soft orb. She felt her juices between her thighs and crossed her legs slightly, needing some sort of friction at her southern nub. She swallowed and looked at him darkly, "You...you masturbated...to me? You...do _that_?" She asked, shocked and more than flattered. Her hands came to cup his face before tangling them in his locks.

His lips turned up at her shocked voice as he gently massaged her breast. "Yes, I assure you, I did. A mind like mine can make some very... creative situations for the body to find pleasure in." he said, moving his legs to undo her own, making it so that he lay between them, their clothed crotches pressed together. It was only then did he remember that he still had his trousers on, and so he stood up, his body longing for the touch once more. Quickly removing them, he looked at the sight before him. Irene Adler, the public's favorite dominatrix, was laid out before him. He couldn't help but feel his ego inflate slightly.

Irene licked her lips as she eyed his muscular lean legs and the bulge that was begging to be released in his boxer-briefs. She let out a soft whimper as her centre began to throb, "Jesus, Sherlock, do you realise how wet you can make me?" She breathed, her hand traveling down to stroke herself over her knickers. She was way too aroused to allow for such lack of contact.

At her words, he moved over to her, standing between her legs and moving her hand away. Moving his hands, he hooked his fingers around the sides of the lace, pulling it down her toned legs, the leggings and garter following along. His breath caught in his throat at the sight revealed to him. He felt his arousal harden even more, pressing against his underwear uncomfortably.

She smirked at his reaction, glancing down at her bare mound before catching his eye, "See something you like?" She husked, noticing how his briefs had twitched.

Breathing deeply, he reached down and quickly removed his own boxer-briefs, allowing his aroused member to be released. Quickly, he lay between her legs again, pressing his lips against hers, one hand reaching between them and slowly massaging her clitorous.

Irene let out a moan of sheer pleasure as he touched the one spot she had so longed for him to graze for all these months. She arched her back up as her hands moved to his shoulders, her nails digging in his skin. "Oh, God, that feels _so good_." she breathed, "Fuck, I'm dripping." She added, feeling her juices leak down her inner thighs. She never had been so aroused in her life. It was almost shocking. She swallowed as she let out another whimper as his fingers circled around her swollen clit.

Sherlock's member twitched at her words, the smell of her arousal beginning to fill the room. Smirking as a thought entered his mind, he slowly leaned down, pressing his lips upon her hard nipple before opening his mouth and flicking his tongue out, teasing her. He was going to make her beg.

She arched her back more, pressing her chest against his mouth as she let out a small cry of surprise and pleasure. She lifted her pelvis, pinning his hand between them, as she hooked a leg over his waist and rolled him over, so that she was straddling his waist. She lifted her hips up to press his hard cock against his abdomen before slowly sliding her wet folds up and down him. She smirked slyly as she ran her hands over his pectoral muscles before leaning over to husk in his ear, "Did you really think I was going to let you be in control the whole time, my love?" She began, nibbling on his earlobe before pulling back to continue, "I _am_ a dominatrix remember? Besides, I told you before, I'd make you beg for mercy. _Twice_." Her centre was now at the tip of his cock, she moaned as she circled her entrance around him. Not allowing for any penetration, but just to tease him at the suggestion of it. She pulled back to eye his reaction.

Shocked at the change in position, his body was nearly overcome with pleasure as she teased him. Groaning deeply, he reached his hands up to clutch her hips, an animalistic need to be in her beginning to take over. He felt her juices start to drip down his cock, and, almost forcing, he bit out the words; "I don't... beg."

She ceased her gyrations, and arched a brow at him curiously, "Oh, don't you, Mr Holmes?" She purred, returning to her formal addressment of him. "Well, there's a first time for everything. Besides, you haven't felt my mouth around your cock yet, have you?" She flashed him a devilish smile as she leaned down to kiss her way south, licking and nipping his smooth chest as she made her way to his hip bones, gnawing at each softly before sliding her tongue down the light path of hairs that formed his happy trail. She finally reached her desired target and gripped him with her right hand. She leaned down and licked the tip of his head ever so lightly. She pulled back and glanced up at him, begging to see his reaction.

Sherlock gasped as he felt her moving down his body, and as he felt her lick the tip of his member, his mind went blank, he arched upwards, his eyes fluttered shut, and a groan forced its way out. He tangled his hands in the bed sheets, his body begging for more, but he still held strong, not allowing the words to break free.

She chuckled lowly before leaning back over to take his head in her mouth, sucking on it slowly as her tongue swirled around his tip. She began to bob her head slowly, as her hand began to pump on his shaft. She looked up at him as she worked, her eyes dark and full as her hair cascaded around her bobbing head.

Gasping and groaning louder and more violently than before, he tangled his hands in her hair, and, against his mental will and pride, the word forced its way out; "_Please." _he said, his voice graveled to even his own ears.

She took him further in her mouth, thanking God she didn't have a gag reflex as she felt him hit her throat slightly, for he was quite large, moaning as she did so. She cupped his testicles gently, wanting to push him to the brink of orgasm before tearing herself away.

Pleasure and need racked his body, filling him with want and desire as he felt her encase even more of him. His hands clutched even tighter, his back arched higher and higher as he forced his eyes open to look at her. His resolve broke at the sight of her wrapped around his cock; "_Irene, please. Please!"_ he choked out, his breaths coming in gasps.

She pulled back a bit, her mouth now just around his head. She moaned softly as her tongue licked his small slit to taste the bit of pre-cum that was oozing out. She sucked him one finally time before removing her mouth and hand, licking her lips as she swallowed the small bit of cum, before stalking back up towards him to press a kiss to his lips. "How do you want me?" She asked, heatedly.

Groaning at the loss of contact with his arousal, he grabbed her hips and quickly flipped them over, his lips attacking her own with primal need. Pulling back slightly, he whispered to her; "This; I want you like this." as he placed his member at her entrance, looking into her eyes as if for confirmation that he could continue.

She caught the brief look of uncertainty in his eyes and raised a hand up to cup his cheek as she leaned up to press a chaste kiss, she searched his eyes for a moment, before whispering, "I'm ready whenever you are, my love. Take your time. And don't be nervous. I'm right here." She said, smiling gently at him. "I love you."

"And I love you, Irene." he whispered back. At those words, he gently pressed forward, groaning as his cock was encased in almost searing heat. Slowly, he entered her, all the while his lips were pressed gently to hers. Pleasure was running rampant through his body as he bottomed out, and he had to rein himself in so as not to hurt her. He wanted this time to be gentle, they had all the time in the world after all.

She arched her back slightly and gasped as he slid into her slowly. She bit her lip and winced slightly. He was _very_ well endowed and she was quite small already. She took a breath and spread her legs open farther, to give him more access and allow herself to accept him more fully. She ran her hands up his back, grabbing his skin and muscles, as she let herself adjust to his length and thickness. It wasn't exactly painful by any means, for she was quite ready for him, she simply wasn't used to such a size. She let out a low moan as she arched her hips up, "Pump, my love." She instructed softly, "It'll loosen me up a bit."

Listening to her, he moved his hips gently, pleasure running through him at the feeling. Slowly, he felt her relax, and at this, he began to speed up. His lips found her breast again, and he began to suck once more, one of his hands coming up and teasing the other one.

Irene let out moan of pleasure, very much like her text alert as she relaxed around him and he began to thrust into her, finding a steady rhythm. She bit her lip and whimpered as he sucked and played with her nipples, her nails digging into to his shoulder blades. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles, as she thrust her pelvis up to meet his, sheathing him deeper inside her cavern. "_Fuck_ Sherlock!" She swore, looking into his eyes before throwing her head back in ecstasy. "Yes, faster, love." She purred.

Looking up at her, he smirked slightly before replying. "If you insist, my love." and soon he was pounding away, his arms supporting him as he gazed down at the angel beneath him. Even though it was his first time, he had managed to reduce the dominatrix to a writhing mess. It was beautiful.

She groaned as she leaned her head against his shoulder, biting his neck as he pumped. She grunted as she felt her walls start to clench around him, her orgasm building and building as the tingling sensation swam into her limbs. "Oh, God, I'm so close...Harder, please, I...fuck me silly, my darling." She growled, surprising even herself slightly with how dirty she was talking.

Grinning with her words, he pulled one of the legs wrapped around him over his shoulder, placing his hand on her hip, and began to pound harder and faster than before. Sucking on her nipple once again, he increased the pressure and intensity that he did so. He was close, so close, but he needed her to finish first. Supporting his body with his own muscles, he moved his hand that was pressing beside her head to massage her swollen mound.

After a few hearty pumps at this new angle, and as soon as his fingers found her throbbing clit once more, Irene Adler, the dominatrix, _The_ _Woman_, _his_ woman, came utterly and completely undone. She cried out as her walls gripped him tightly as her body shuddered and twitched beneath him as the hot sensation of pleasure tipped over and she crashed onto his shores as if from a wave. She buckled beneath him, as her orgasm turned into a rolling one, as he continued his assault. She could feel her arousal pooling beneath them as she came, like she had never come before. Her breath was hard and heavy as her chest heaved to keep up. She stared at him, utterly lost in the pleasure his body was inspiring in hers. She moaned his name, "Sherlock...come for me. I want to feel you as you come." She bit her lip and closed her eyes as yet another wave of pleasure washed over her and she gripped him tighter.

He increased his speed as he felt her clench around him, and, at her words, he came. Hard and fast, his body rocked in pleasure and release. Looking at the woman beneath him, he felt wave after wave a pleasure course through him like a fire. "_Irene! God, Irene"_ he groaned out as he felt his seman fill her. His breath came in gasps, the feeling of her nails digging into him creating a sense of pleasure that mixed with the existing. Slowly, his body began to relax and he pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss, muttering "I love you, Irene Adler."

**_Sex ends here_**

She felt him ease and soften and unwrapped her leg from around his waist, not wanting him to exit her just yet, however. She kissed his cheek and lips a few times, before resting her head back against the pillow and sighing happily, "I love you you too, Sherlock Holmes." She smiled at him, before biting her lip, a look of concern crossing her face as a fact hit her. _Shit. _She thought to herself, her eyes darting around the room frantically.

Sherlock sensed her unease as he relaxed, his face pulling into a look of concern. "Irene, what is it? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" but he knew he hadn't, or at least that wasn't the cause of the unease. He watched as her eyes flitted around the room and removed himself from her before rolling to the side and pulling her into his arms.

She shook her head against his chest, "No, no, of course not." She mumbled, swallowing as she tried to think of how to tell him. She was terrified of his response, terrified that he'd flee or put his walls up again and leave her forever. That he couldn't handle what might have just been conceived. She glanced up at him, "It's just that...I...I'm not...on the pill or anything...I...I haven't been...sexually active...since...well, since we met..." She confessed, knowing that it showed how far back her sentiment had gone. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, preparing herself for his response.

That was not the answer that he had expected. Thinking back to what had just happened, he remembered that they had not used a condom. The pieces fell into place. "Oh... well... are you on your cycle?" he asked quietly. He could guess the answer, however, because she wouldn't have felt so uneasy if she was not.

She shook her head, "No, of course not. I wouldn't have let your first time be so messy." She cracked a half smile, though it faded slowly. She thought a moment, doing the maths in her head. "I think I _should _be getting it in about two and a half weeks...which means...I'm probably ovulating..." She said slowly, counting backwards.

_Oh god, please don't let her be pregnant. _Sherlock thought. With everything that was currently going on, and the danger that he, and anyone associated with him was in, he really couldn't afford for her to be pregnant, as that would put her in even more danger. Thinking about the options, he finally looked at her. "Okay, if you are pregnant, you are in a lot of danger. There are a lot of people out there that want me dead, and they will do anything to get to me. Tomorrow, I will get in contact with my brother and explain what has happened. He should be able to help keep you safe. But for now, you need to relax. There is no immediate danger, and we should be happy. Just know this; I am never leaving you. I will be there for you through all of this, whether you are pregnant or not. I love you, Irene Adler, and I always will." he said, brushing a small tear from her face.

The range and mixture of emotions that was flooding her mind at his beautiful, loving words was too much. She broked down and cried against his chest, her body shaking slightly. "Sherlock...Sherlock...I...you...you would want to keep it...if...I am?" She mumbled.

Shock filled him at her words. She had thought that he wouldn't want his own child? Forcing her to look at him, Sherlock stared deep into her eyes. "Of course I would want to keep it. I never thought that I would have children, and you could have just given me the best gift ever. I will never abandon you," he paused, placing a hand on her stomach, "or our child." he finished, pressing his lips to hers sweetly.

She looked up at him, and couldn't help but grin madly at his words. She reached her hands to cup his face before kissing him softly a dozen times and pulling back to reply, "We don't even know if I am yet, but...now I pray I am. I never thought I'd be a mother. I don't think I have the instinct...but...now I want nothing more than to create something that is part you and part me. God, they'll be brilliant...and beautiful...and will have such a pair of cheekbones..." She laughed lightly, thinking a moment. "Hamish." She whispered, wondering if he remembered the reference's source.

Chuckling at her words, he nodded. "Hamish. What a wonderful name for a brilliant child. I am sure that his namesake would be flattered. However, what if it were a girl? While my family is a bit free with names, I don't think that Hamish is suitable for a girl." He smiled, thinking of the names in his family.

She giggled softly at his observation, "No, Hamish is rather masculine. We'll have to think of a female alternative, should it be a girl. If...we are pregnant...that is." She couldn't get her hopes up. And besides, it would probably be better for him if she weren't. Though she couldn't help but hope to god that she was. She wanted it so badly now. It would be crushing if she found out she weren't. Though, they did have the rest of their lives to keep trying.

Her mind wandered a bit, lost in a girlish fantasy. She bit her lip as her thoughts turned to what normally came _before_ the baby pram-_marriage_. She couldn't believe she was actually indulging in such a thought. She never, ever, ever planned to get married before she met him. She had no interest; it was too conventional and far too much of a submissive act on the woman's part. The tradition of taking the man's name and the father 'giving' her away. No, no, the feminist and dominatrix in her was appalled at the thought.

Still she couldn't help but observe that a part of her, a growing part of her was rather keen on the thought of being Mrs Holmes-Mrs _Sherlock_ Holmes. Being tied to him in such an official way. She shook her head. She had no idea what his views on such an institution and figured he probably didn't believe in it either. He probably would detest the the thought, being so independent and singular. Still, she couldn't help but hope that maybe one day he might just surprise her and himself and take a knee. She blinked, and looked up at him, blushing slightly, "Sorry, got lost in thought..." She murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Smiling, he shook his head. "I understand, I was too. But for now, we should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow, we need to get you into hiding. Even if you are not pregnant, which I now hope that you are, you will still be in danger just by me being here. Go to sleep, Irene. I will still be here in the morning." he whispered, his mind filling with names of jewelry stores that he could find a suitable ring for her. A smile graced his features at the thought, for while he was not a man of tradition, he could see himself with no other person.

**_Okay, so this is my first attempt at Adlock! Thank you to Abigail for co-writing this with me, even if it did start out as an Omegle Roleplay. I hope you liked it, so review and tell me what you think. If you want us to continue it, or if you want a side story to be written. If so, please give us ideas! Thanks for reading!_**


	2. The next morning

_**Hey everyone! So, here is chapter 2! It is shorter than the first one, but we are already working on the next one. Again, we love feedback, and the anonymous reviews is open, so even if you don't have an account, you can still review. Thank you to all who reviewed, and to all of you who read the first chapter. It hasn't even been a week and we already have 300 views! Thank you guys so much for reading it and I hope that you like this chapter! Anyways here we go! And the first bit is a bunch of sex, but don't worry, not every chapter will have sex in it (in theory)**_

Irene nuzzled her face against the warm, soft chest that was beneath to her. She was being held by two strong arms. She furrowed her brows, only half conscious as the night's previous event's slowly flooded back to her. She opened her eyes groggily and saw a sleeping Sherlock, mouth slightly agape and a light snore escaping his throat. She blinked her eyes and giggled softly to herself as she kissed his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She moved her pelvis against his and bit her lip with amusement as she felt what she could only assume was a strong case of morning wood. She glanced up at him, a wicked idea running through her mind. Sherlock Holmes was in for the best wake up of his life.

**Sex starts here**

_Sherlock knew that he was asleep, he always did. But this was one dream that he did not want to wake from. Soft morning light was streaming through an open window, a cool breeze wafting over them. Underneath him lay the one Irene Adler, her soft hands pressed against his chest as they kissed. Neither participants were wearing clothes, a testament to the nights previous act. Smirking into the kiss, he gently ran his fingers along her side, relishing in the slight giggle that emitted from her. His hand then found the mound of flesh it was in search for, and began to massage it gently. His ears perked as Irene moaned into the kiss, and he began to gently tease her nipples. _

Irene glanced up at him, wondering what he was dreaming about, his face sporting a content and flushed look. She licked her lips as she pulled the duvet back and eyed his erection lustfully. She stole one more look at him before positioning herself over his groin, gripping his shaft with her right hand gently. She leaned down and slowly placed her mouth over his head, licking his tip with her tongue and she sucked upwards. Her eyes shot back to his face, curious to see how her actions would affect his sleep.

_Smiling, he began to kiss his way down her slightly swollen abdomen, when the scene changed. Instead of being above her, he was now pressed against the mattress, looking down as Irene kissed her own way down him, much like she had that first night, and began to tease his hardened member. Pleasure ignited in his stomach at the sensation. He wrapped his hands in her soft, dark hair as she began to suck. His eyes began to flutter closed, need clouding his mind._

She smirked as she saw his face contort in confusion and pleasure. She bobbed her head down further as her hand began to stroke up and down his throbbing shaft. She sucked him hard, harder than she had last night, knowing that his body was able to handle a little bit more now that it had been exposed to such sexual desires. She couldn't help but allow a low moan escape her throat as she took him in as fully as she could, loving the way his salty skin tasted.

_Where his eyes had been shut, they now flashed open widely as he felt her take all of him, or as much as she could, in, a moan breaking free of his throat. Gripping tighter, his hips began to move in rhythm with her sucking. As he did such, a new sensation began to grip him, almost pulling him from the dream. He didn't want to leave, however. Not while he was so encased in animalistic pleasures. But, try as he may, he slowly began to leave the dream, the new sensation becoming more and more overwhelming. _

Irene took him out of her mouth as she ran her tongue up and down his shaft, licking his testicles playfully as her hand continued to pump him. She then ran her tongue and mouth back up and took him in again, this time just his head as she bobbed up and down with more speed.

Finally breaking through the dream, his eyes opened to the morning sun before glancing down as he felt movement at the end of the bed. Still slightly befuddled with sleep, his body began to register what he was seeing and feeling. The sensation that had pulled at him before, was none other than Irene, sucking his aroused member. Coming to this realisation, the pleasure caused by the actions became painfully obvious, racing through his body. Gasping, his hands gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles turning even whiter than before. Encased with a need for her to take more of him, his hips began to move, much like in the dream, matching her speed. He never took his eyes off her, the vision too perfect to be ignored.

She glanced up and caught his now open eyes. She grinned against his member and gave him a subtle wink before leaning down to take him in her mouth fully, feeling his tip graze the back of her throat. She bobbed her head slowly before pulling all the way back to attack his tip and head with her tongue, repeating these two actions over and over.

The pleasure filled his body as she repeatedly attacked him, and his back arched upwards. His lust filled eyes closed slightly as he bit out "God... Irene. So good." in a gravelly voice. His hands wove themselves in her hair, gripping tightly. He began to pump faster, a need for release taking over his body.

She sucked harder, as her tongue swirled over his opening, tasting the pre-cum. She pumped her fist around him faster, needing to taste him fully, wanting to swallow his warm cum and have him in her yet again. She groaned as she felt his cock twitch and the pulse in his veins spike.

Primal need shot through him like fire, his heart pounding away in his chest. Without thinking, without weighing the consequences, he forced her head still and began to fuck her mouth. Groaning loudly, he felt the coil in his stomach tighten more and more as he quickened his pace, before finally snapping. As he came, hot and fast, he yelled her name, mixed with a number of profanities that he would not have spoken otherwise.'

Irene swallowed his seed as fast as she could, though he came fast and hard, producing a lot from all the years of pent up frustration. She licked his tip and rest of his cock, making sure to lap up all the cum she could find. She slowly removed him from her mouth, taking a finger to circled her mouth and sucking it lightly. She licked her lips and grinned darkly, "Mmm, you taste delightful." She husked.

Looking at her through glazed eyes, he smirked loosely before reaching up and pulling her on top of him, pressing his lips to hers. The taste of himself on her lips was entrancing, almost alluring. Grinning into the kiss, he cupped her face in a loving manner. "God, I love you, Irene Adler. That was the best wake up I have ever had. Thank you." he whispered.

She grinned, biting her lip slightly before taking a slight risk and saying, "You know Mr Holmes, you have yet to taste me..."

At her words, he flipped them both over, so that she was pressed into the mattress, before brushing a few strands of hair from her face and staring into her eyes. "Would you like me to, Miss Adler?" he husked out, a smirk doning his face. Without waiting for an answer, he brushed his hand against her folds, feeling the dampness between them.

Irene gasped as he took control so suddenly, moaning as his hand brushed against her mound. She bit her lip and arched her back slightly, "Is the great...Sherlock Holmes...going to taste a woman for the first time?" She teased playfully, unable to resist taunting him with his lack of experience, though she did mean it in the most loving and endearing way possible.

Ignoring her teasing words, he slowly began to kiss his way down her toned abdomen, nibbling and tasting her flesh along the way, all the while slowly massaging her mound. Pressing gentle kisses to both of her hip bones, he moved quickly to her inner thighs, kissing from the back of her knees to the join with her folds. Only then did he flick his tongue to taste her for the first time. Smiling at the sweet taste that was _her_, he moved his fingers from their spot, and gently pressed his tongue to replace them. While he did this, he moved his eyes upwards to see her face.

Irene bucked her hips slightly as she felt his tongue slide up her slit and hit her clit. "Ahh, _fuck, Sherlock_!" She gasped, her eyes closing tightly as he hands tangled in the sheets.

Smiling at her reaction, he moved his tongue slowly against her, loving the taste of her. Thinking quickly, he slowly moved his tongue down, pausing to tease her entrance. His fingers found her nub again and began to move. Sherlock quickly moved his tongue to dart into her, moving his tongue to rub her walls slightly while he looked up at her.

She whimpered as she bit her lip, her hips bucking again as she let out a high cry. "Oh, fuck...God, yes..." She thrashed against the bed, feeling her juices flow as he thrust his tongue into her. "How...do...I...taste?" She husked.

He pulled back slightly at her words, flashing a smirk up to her before saying "Ravishing, my dear." in his deep voice. At that, he delved back in, his tongue darting out again as his fingers moved. Moving her lips apart, he pressed his mouth deeper into her, his other hand joining his tongue, moving them around in search of that one spot, that would give her the most pleasure

She let out a slight scream as her pelvis bucked violently, "Fuck, Sherlock!" She moaned, "Ah, oh, God, ahh..." Her breathing intensifying.

Taking her reaction as a good one, Sherlock began to speed his movements, thrusting his tongue with more force and moving both hands quicker and quicker than before. He felt her walls begin to tighten around him at this. Continuing his motions, he moved his eyes so he could see her face. Her features were contorted in a mask of absolute pleasure, her skin seeming to glow in the soft morning light. She was an absolute angel.

Irene moaned like she never had before as she felt her walls tighten around him, her body shuddering and contorting. "_Fuck, Sherlock!_" She screamed as she felt herself cum around his fingers and tongue.

As her walls closed in on him, he continued his actions, faster than before. He lapped at her juices as they spilled from her, savoring the taste. He continued this until he felt her relax, her body falling back to the bed, nearly limp. Pulling back, he moved to look at the beauty on the bed before him. The flushed skin, shimmering sweat sheen, and the smile that graced her made her the most beautiful sight that he had ever seen. _And she was his._

**Sex ends here**

She closed her eyes as her chest heaved, rising up and down as she fought to catch her breath. She licked her now chapped lips, all the moisture in her body having flooded down to her nether regions. She closed her eyes for a moment before sitting up to pull him on top of her. "Jesus, where the bloody hell did you learn to do _that_?" She asked him, breathless and flushed.

Smiling at her words, he pressed his lips to hers gently, looking deep into her eyes. "Honestly, I caught John watching porn so much that I got curious on the appeal. That night, I decided to research it. And I still do not understand why he watches it so much, it did nothing for me." Sherlock said, rolling onto the bed and pulling her into his arms. That was when he heard his phone ring, having left it in his jacket downstairs. Sighing, he untangled himself from Irene, gave her a loving look, and left the room, still naked.

She eyed his bare arse lustfully before sighing softly and stretching in her bed. She yawned and curled up, closing her eyes to snooze for a bit as Sherlock took his phone call. She did her best not to listen too much, not wanting to snoop, though she was a bit worried.

Pulling his still ringing phone from his coat, he sighed as he saw his brother's number flash on the screen. "Hello, Mycroft." he said, his voice monotonous.

"Sherlock, where are you? You seem to have disappeared from the cameras." Mycroft said, his voice as annoying as ever.

"I'm at a friend's house, Mycroft. Speaking of which, I need some help with something." and so he went off, explaining what had happened the night before, without going into too much detail, and the possible consequences that have come from his actions. "So, she needs to be hidden. Until Moriarty's men have been captured and taken care of, she, and our possible child, are in danger. Please, Mycroft, we need your help." by the end of it, Sherlock's voice had gone surprisingly raw with emotion.

"Sherlock... I don't know why you did this, or why you didn't use protection, but I will help her. She seems like she means something to you, and if what you say is true, then she is with child. I will send a car for the two of you soon, but with everything that is going on here, it may be a few days before I can spare someone. Your 'death' seems to have caused quite a stir, brother. But until then, be safe. Stay where you are, and don't tell anyone else your location. Do you understand me, Sherlock?" He could hear the strain in Mycroft's voice, and took a deep breath.

"I understand, Mycroft. Call me when they are coming, we will be here. And, thank you, Mycroft." he said before hanging up the phone and leaning his head against the wall. Everything was happening too quickly, his mind needed time to process it.

Irene bit her lip as she heard him hang up the phone. She sat up slightly and called out, "Sherlock?"

Looking up at his name being called, he took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, trying to calm his nerves. Standing up straight, he placed his phone back in his coat and walked back upstairs. Smiling at Irene, he sat on the edge of the bed closest to her, taking her hand in his. "That was Mycroft, apparently I disappeared from the cameras and he got worried, wanted to know where I was. I talked to him about our situation, and he agreed to help out, though he did say that it may be a few days before he can spare a car; my death seems to have caused quite the uproar. But, you will be safe." he said, kissing her hand.

She pulled him on her, kissing his cheek. "I gathered as much. What did he have to say about..._us_...me? Being alive and all...and well...with you?" She asked him softly.

Sherlock smiled again before saying "Honestly, he said that he didn't understand why I did what I did, or why we didn't use protection, but he did realise that you mean something special to me, and he accepts that. He understands that you may be with child, and should make the necessary arrangements to make it easier on you. I may have, however, left out who exactly you are." Sherlock smiled slightly. He didn't want to say what was on him mind, the weighing reality that was the truth. He would have to leave her for a while, he needed to help look for the circle, he couldn't let them get away.

She nodded slowly, "I see. We won't be able to know if I am or not for a week or two." She observed quietly, stroking his hair gently. "I don't want you to go..." She choked, tears welling in her eyes. "I've waited so long to just have you and tell you how I feel...to lose you so soon again is just cruel..."

He closed his eyes and grabbed her hand, pressing it to his cheek. "I know, I don't want to leave you either. I have wanted to be with you for a while now, and it tears me apart inside to know that I will not be with you at all times. I am so sorry, Irene. I should be with you until we know the exact situation, but I may be called away before then if they get a lead. My top priority, though, is to make sure that you are safe, and that can only happen when the circle is gone. I love you, Irene. I truly do, and I always will, I hope that you know that." he whispered, tears beginning to fall down his face.

She nodded, unable to form words before leaning up to kiss him softly. "Oh, Sherlock I love you." She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He couldn't say anything. All his life he thought that caring did not help people, that it didn't do anything except end in pain, yet here he was, crying because he didn't want to leave somebody that he _loved_. Instead of talking, he simply grabbed her chin and pressed his lips to hers, hoping to convey all of the emotions that he felt through that one kiss..

She moaned against his lips before kissing him back with just as much force. She bit his bottom lip and tugged it gently, before leaning back against the headboard. She paused for a moment, lost in a thought. She swallowed before glancing up at him, "What about John?" She asked softly, not wanting to press him about such a sensitive subject.

Sherlock stopped. He had thought about John for a little bit after his 'death', even went so far as to check on him at the flat, looking through the hidden cameras that Mycroft had set up for security. He hadn't, however, thought about getting in touch with him, letting him know that he was alive. "John... is a sensitive topic. He was one of the targeted people who would have died, had I not. In theory, for this to work, he needs to believe that I am dead. We don't know if the targets are being watched for any sign that I was not dead. I honestly don't know what to do about it, Irene." he ended in a whisper, his mind racing with possibilities and scenarios that involved John finding out he was alive.

She bit her lip, the pain on his face evident. How she wished she could erase it or take it on herself. She squeezed his hand before replying, "I could...check in on him...if that would make you feel better? See how he's coping...give him some company?" She offered slowly.

Sherlock pressed his lips together into a thin line, thinking of what she said. "I- Irene, I- would you be safe? If you left the house without protection and went to check on John, would you be safe? I can't risk you because of my silly emotions." he said, looking deep into her eyes. As much as he wanted John to be okay, to have some sort of comfort, he couldn't risk her life and safety. "I am sure that he would be grateful for the company, for the comfort, but again, he may be being watched." he stated.

She nodded, "I know, I know. But...he deserves some sort of contact from someone. Even if it's me. I could text him, we could meet in a public space? Or at Mycroft's..." She trailed off, glancing down.

"Okay, what if you text him so that you two meet in a public place in a few days, long enough for me to get some sort of disguise. I can't have you being alone there, and Mycroft can barely spare a person to come fetch us, so I will follow you. I will stay far enough away for him not to notice me, but close enough for me to still keep an eye on you. Is that okay?" Sherlock reasoned. He wasn't comfortable with the plan, too much was relying on chance, but it was the only thing that they could do so that he could keep an eye on them, and Irene could talk to John.

She considered this for a moment, "Alright, but _please_ be careful. And make sure you're properly hidden." She replied, hugging him close. "We can't have you getting yourself killed, not if you might be a father." She teased lightly. He smiled, kissing her nose. "No, we can't have that, now can we? Faking my death once was easy enough, but twice, that might be a stretch." he joked back, his mind easing up from the stress.

She flashed a grin at him before reaching over to grab her phone off the bedside table. She glanced at him before quickly typing, **I'm not dead, Mr Watson. We should talk, don't you think? IA**

**So, there you go! Abigail and I hope that you liked it, and if you didn't, well too bad. Anyways, please review, and as I stated before, even if you don't have an account, you can still review. We love getting them, even if they do say 'Hey, your story sucks ass. Why are you even continuing it'. Thank you for reading, and we should get the next one out in a few days. Love you guys!**


	3. Meeting with John, and the phone call

_**Hey guys! So, sorry that the upload took longer than expected, we kind of live in different states and have to meet up on Google docs. when our schedules allow it, which isn't that often because I'm moving and Abigail is working. Anyways, yes there is a sex scene in this (once we get to the parts where Sherlock has left I don't think that there will be for a few chapters), also, I have a poll going up on my profile for it they should have a single kid or twins, and if you have a name you want the kid(s) to be, sent it in with a review. And before I forget, thank you to those that have subscribed to the story for updates, and thank you to those that have reviewed! It has only been a week since we posted the first chapter, and we already have over 700 views! That is amazing, so thank you guys so much, you don't know what it means to us! And as always, please send in reviews! They really do help us, and they motivate us to get the chapters done quicker, so please send them in! So, without further ado, here is the next chapter in That Night! Enjoy :-)**_

It had been a few days since that fateful night Irene and Sherlock had finally joined their minds and their bodies in union. Their recent time together had been charming and sweet, doing their best to make up for their lost time, the thought of Sherlock's impending leave looming over them like a rain cloud. Besides lazy days in bed and more than an ample amount of love making, the two had spent the rest of their time reviewing how they would put her into safe keeping and where Sherlock would be going to. Sherlock had also arranged some help from his homeless network to set up a stakeout for the meeting that was to occur between Irene and John in Hyde Park.

John sighed as he pulled on his well worn jumper, sunlight filtering through the bedroom window. It had been only a few days since Sh- since he died, and John hadn't left the flat since. Mrs. Hudson had tried to bring him some food, clean up the place for him, but he just wanted to be left alone. People had tried to call him; Mycroft, Harry, Mike, Molly, but he didn't answer them. It was when he got a text from an unknown number, now saved under Irene Adler, that jolted him from his shock and sadness. They had planned to meet up at Hyde Park, an open place that would be full of other people. Leaving his room, he went downstairs and made a quick cup of tea before leaving the flat for the park.

Irene wrapped her coat around her, glancing around to look for Sherlock. So far, she couldn't spot him, which was probably a good thing, considering he was like a limb to her now and she him. If he could fool the person he was in love with and sleeping with couldn't spot him, then hopefully no one else could either.

She buttoned her coat, covering the blue scarf Sherlock had given her to wear, not wanting John to have the visual memory of one of his late friend's favourite article of clothing. She spotted him seated at a bench with a coffee in hand. He looked, pale, far too slender, and ashen and white. She swallowed, glancing around again before walking up to him briskly, "Dr Watson." She murmured softly.

John stopped when he spotted the woman in front of him. "Miss... Adler, last I was told, you were dead. Even Mycroft said so, though I guess since you are, well, you, you managed to get away somehow. Anyways, why did you want to see me? Thought that you wouldn't want anything to do with me, only..." he trailed off, the thought of the name bringing tears to his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked at her again. "Sorry, but do you know about what happened? To _him_, I mean."

She blinked, sitting down next to him, "Yes...I should probably start with Karachi, however...Don't you think?" She asked him softly.

"Yes. Please, enlighten me on how you managed to escape a beheading, and trick at least one of the Holmes brothers, because I would like to know" John said, his sass showing through just a bit, not having spoken to anyone in days.

She nodded slowly, "It was...him..._Sherlock_...who saved me in the end...He...he must have come after me...rescued me and swept me away to a dingy hotel in the outskirts of Karachi...it was a...tense...forty-eight hours...to say the least..." She said, with a cracked smile, needing to remind herself that she was supposed to be under the impression that he was still dead.

"But if I remember correctly, he was working a case at that point, he wouldn't have had time-_Oh_. He finished the case earlier than he said, didn't he? Caught word that you were in danger, and being Sherlock, had to save you at the last moment. Am I right?" John finished, taking a deep breath of exasperation. Even when he was dead, Sherlock still managed to amaze him.

She shrugged, "Something like that I suppose...John...you should know...I...he...we...well...we were more than just..._acquaintances_." She murmured, biting her lip as a tear formed in her eye.

John's eyebrows furrowed, a deep crease setting between them. "I...don't understand. Were you two...lovers? We are talking about the same Sherlock, right? Because the Sherlock that I knew, he...he didn't have lovers. I never saw him take an interest in anyone, unless he was on a case or proving a point..." This was true, at least for John. He had never seen Sherlock take a romantic interest in anyone, he just assumed that Sherlock was asexual or something. '_Not my area'_ he had told him in that restaurant.

She smiled weakly, "Yes, that's exactly how I thought I was too...funny how two same sides make up a single coin...But...you _should _know...he loved me...and I loved him..._love_ him...I always will _love_ him, for the rest of my days until we can be together once more." She murmured, glancing up at John as a tear fell down her cheek. She silently wondered if Sherlock could hear her words, and what he would think of them.

Sherlock had been watching them from afar, an audio piece was positioned on the scarf he had given her to wear, so he could hear everything they were saying. At her words, he stopped, his mind sort of drawing a blank at the sincerity behind them. Yes, he knew that she loved him, that was evident in the eyes, actions, and her pulse around him, but he didn't know that it was such a deeply set thing. Then it hit him, his mind working nearly in overdrive now, that he felt the same way towards her. He was even looking at getting a ring for her, though they had only been together for a few days.

John was shocked by her words. The only time that he had heard someone speak like that about another person, was when Harry spoke about Clara, they had been working on their relationship again. The love, sincerity, and happiness that sort of rolled with the words was nearly tangible. Which was strange, because both Sherlock and Irene had said that sincerity and love were silly malfunctions of the human anatomy. "I-I don't know what to say to that. I'm so sorry, this must be so much harder on you."

She closed her eyes, "We both loved him, Dr-John-though in different ways...But yes, I...I...will never have the pleasure of having a family with him or...kissing him under the mistletoe at Christmas...much to his chagrin, I'm sure..." She choked back a sob, knowing that she need to put on the air of the grieving mistress.

A bitter smile broke through on John's face at her words, imagining Sherlock's reaction to her kissing him underneath a mistletoe sprig. "Yeah, he probably wouldn't be too happy about that." John chuckled, his sorrow beginning to lighten, just slightly, by talking about him. He would still need time to heal, that was inevitable, but he could morn without being sad. "I'm sorry, Irene, that I never got to know you too well before all of this. I'm sorry, that you are having to go through all of this, with everything that you have gone through already. If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me, okay, I saved your number when you texted me." he offered, looking at the nearly crying woman next to him. It was unnerving to see someone so much like Sherlock; intellectually, emotionally, be so vulnerable.

She nodded, smiling at him fondly, "Oh, John...What are we to do?" She cried, recalling how she had felt that night she thought she had lost him forever.

Taking a deep breath, John closed his eyes before answering. "Honestly, Irene, we live. Sherlock told me once that caring never helped the dying, that it did nothing. We miss him, yes, but I don't think that he would want us to be terribly torn up about his death. He would want us to move on, to live our lives. There is one thing though. See, he left a note, of sorts, in the way of a phone call... to me. During that call, he said that I needed to tell everyone that would listen, that he was a fake. That he invented Moriarty for his own games, but I know better. He wasn't a fake, he was a genius. What we need to do, is honour that. We need to tell anyone who will listen, even the homeless, that Sherlock Holmes was real, he was a genius, matched only by the genius criminal that was Moriarty. We need to remember him the way that he was, okay. That is what we should do, what we need to do." By the end of his speech, John had tears rolling down his cheeks, his ears ringing with the voice he longed to hear again. Because, after a year and a half of living with Sherlock Holmes, he craved the action that came with it, craved the adrenaline. And most of all, he craved the friendship.

Irene bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to tell him that Sherlock was alright. That he was just over across the way. She knew _he _was listening; knew he was just as torn up as his best mate. She reached a hand out, placing it over John's warmly, "I know, John..._I _know." She bit her lip, squeezing his hand. "I'm always here for you too...okay? I know we never got off on the right foot...but we should...now..." She trailed off, sighing heavily.

Sherlock missed what Irene had said, still thinking of John's words. Even after all the danger, all of the evidence that was stacked against him, John was still loyal to him, still trusted him. He had told John specifically that he was a fake, a magician, that all he did were tricks, optical illusions to fool the common mind, yet still he sat, telling Irene that he was real, that he was an unparalleled genius. He wanted so much to run out of his hiding spot, to pull John into his arms and tell him that he was okay, tell him that he was alive, but he couldn't. He had a job to do before John was safe. Tears welled in his blue eyes at the thought of someone being so loyal, so trusting, even when they had _trust issues_, as his therapist had noted.

She nodded, squeezing his hand to make him focus on her eyes. She blinked a subtle morse code at him with her eyes, saying, _He's not dead._ She took a nervous glance around praying that Sherlock hadn't noticed. She couldn't help herself. She _had _to tell him. She knew just how painful it was to live without him...to think you lost someone you loved .

***Back at the Flat***

Sherlock sighed quietly as he closed the door to Irene's flat later that day, quickly shedding most of his disguise, save for the shirt and trousers. The meeting with John had gone smoothly, maybe too smoothly for his liking. His mind was still reeling with John and Irene's words regarding him, and the intonation that accompanied them. He had never expected people to care for him so much, Irene especially, yet here he was, with two people (at least) that cared and trusted him to the point of ridiculousness.

Helping Irene out of her coat, he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers like he had longed to all day. "I love you Irene, I really do. You are amazing, and beautiful, and unpredictable, and I love you." he whispered, his eyes closed tight as he held her.

Irene grinned, unable to help her self as she snaked her arms around his neck. "I meant every word I said, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She murmured, pressing her lips to his once again.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss, pressing her back against the wall. They both knew that he didn't have much longer to be with her before he had to leave, and they wanted to make the most of it. "So, Miss Adler, what am I ever going to do with you?" he husked out, looking into her eyes playfully.

***Beginning of Sex Scene***

She bit her lip, her arousal for him mounting immensely. "Hmm, you tell me, Mr Holmes. Would you like me to...dominate you? Considering I won't be in the business any longer...What with being in a relationship with you and all, and a possible being pregnancy, it would be nice to go out with a...bang." She husked, running her hand down his form to clutch his member through his dirty, costumed trousers.

He couldn't help but moan slightly at her words and actions, his mind filling with ideas and possibilities. "Oh, Miss Adler, that does sound very..._appealing_. But maybe we should take this upstairs to the bedroom, before I have you _right here_." His voice was graveled with excitement and arousal, his nerves being sent into overdrive at her mere presence.

She shook her head, "No...I rather think a more public space would be far more...stimulating...don't you?" She moaned, flexing her fingers around him.

"What do you have in mind, if you don't mind me asking?" Sherlock was slightly stumped, his mind beginning to fill with places like the back yard or the alleyway, and the thought of being caught in such a compromising...situation was alluring, arousing even at the thought.

She swallowed glancing around, her eyes landing on the very couch he had been seated on when they had first met. She licked her lips, "How about where you first saw..._me_?" She husked, motioning to the white couch that he had been on all those months ago.

Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before grinning and going to sit on the couch. When she didn't follow behind him, Sherlock frowned before remembering the exact circumstances in which they met. _Well, this is going to be interesting_, he couldn't help but think.

Irene bit back a sly grin of amusement as she made her way to the foyer, stripping off her clothes in a flash before stepping back into her Louboutin heels. She fixed her hair, and adjusted her earrings before calmly and casually walking back to the living room, pausing for a moment in the doorway. She couldn't help but admire him sitting there, slightly nervous. He really was the most beautiful, adorable thing she had ever seen. And he was hers; entirely. She cocked her head before murmuring, politely, "Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name."

"I'm so sorry, I'm-" he cut off as she walked in. She looked amazing, nearly exactly like she had that fateful day. He could feel his jaw drop slightly and his heart begin to pound away, faster than before.

She couldn't help but grin at his reaction, he was so transparent it was too precious. She stalked towards him her hips swinging lightly, "Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" She husked, throwing her left leg on the other side of his lap and straddling him with her thighs. She did not sit down, however, wanting her most intimate body parts to be as eye level and available to him as they could be. She ran her hands up his chest and unbuttoned his worn, ripped shirt he had employed for his costume, removing it from his torso. She ran her hands down his smooth chest, "There now-we're both defrocked..." She began before sitting down on his groin softly, "Mr Sherlock Holmes."

Setting his jaw slightly, he looked up at her face. "Miss Adler, I presume." He said, trying to ignore the body that was in front of him.

She ran her right thumb across his cheekbone before, murmuring, "Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She asked him, raising a brow.

"Oh, Miss Adler, please do. I would so enjoy it." Sherlock said softly, looking into the woman's eyes. In their position, he was very excited to begin with, this just made it better.

Irene eyes flashed wide, a gleeful glint in them as she brought her right hand back and slapped him across the face, lighter than she normally would have.

Sherlock had been slapped before, he had managed to piss people off who then slapped him, but never like that. Yeah, he had the sharp stinging, but in the context that she was dominating him, it aroused him. The thought of Irene Adler, Britain's favorite dominatrix, taking control of him was a surprisingly enticing idea.

She glared down at him lustfully, "Mm, not cut yet." She murmured, examining her hand briefly. "Shall I try again?"

"Whatever you wish." Sherlock said, his voice catching in his throat. He never thought that a kink like this would be relevant to him.

She ground her arse into his groin as she brought her hand back again and whipped it across his other cheek, backhanding him rather hard. "Mmm," She moaned, her hand stinging as she shook it out.

Sherlock's head turned to the side from the force of the slap. He very aroused from all of this; the role playing, the submissive actions that he was taking, everything. He moved his head back to it's original position, looking straight ahead. Slowly, he reached his hand up to caress one of her breasts.

Irene raised a brow at his bold action, "My, my Mr Holmes, do you fondle every woman you meet so readily after having been just introduced." She asked calmly, leaning into his touch slowly.

Sherlock paused for a second before answering. "No, Miss Adler, I do not make a tendency to fondle every woman I meet. But then again, not every woman has had the same effect on me as you do." in show of his meaning, he ground his hips upwards, pressing them to hers.

She swallowed a gasp as she felt his obvious erection through his trousers. Her pulse elevated and her pupils darkened. She swallowed, "Oh my, someone is certainly happy to meet me." She husked.

"You have no idea just how..._happy_ I am right now. So please, Miss Adler, get on with it." he said, his voice dipping lower with the last sentence. His member was begging to be touched, begging to be handled, and there she was, in all of her teasing glory.

Smirking to herself, Irene gently leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Well, Mr Holmes, tell me what _exactly _it is you want me to do?" She husked lowly, nibbling his earlobe gently.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he whispered "I want you... to _dominate_ me." His body was nearly being sent into overdrive just from a few touches and some words, and it was glorious.

Her eyebrows shot up, not expecting him to be so keen on her professional service. She narrowed her eyes slightly before continuing, "Do you mean, whips, and chains, and the works? Props, I mean...Or just here and now?" She asked, wondering what he was thinking of.

His mind stopped for a moment, he hadn't thought about all of the possibilities. "Given our current situation, I would have to say; _whatever you please, Miss Adler_." he husked in a low voice. He would be perfectly content with anything that she did to him.

She smiled darkly as she grabbed his shirt, "Wrists behind your head." She ordered curtly, taking on her dominatrix voice and tone.

Looking at the article of clothing that she had grabbed, he bit back a smirk and placed his hands behind his head, crossing them so that she could tie them easier.

She tied the shirt around his wrists and pulled the double knot tightly. "There. Try and get out." She commanded.

Following her orders, he pulled against the knotted fabric, and once he felt no give, he tried twisting his hands to get out, once again he proved unsuccessful. Smirking, he looked up at her again, shaking his head slightly. This newfound bondage did wonders to his body, his nerves alighting in an imaginary flame.

She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his lips, "There now, that's all the sweetness you'll be getting for a bit." She murmured, leaning back to get up off and out of his lap.

He felt like he was losing his mind as she left him. There he was, all tied up and ready for her, and she was leaving. His eyes widened slightly, following her around the room like a lost puppy would.

She crossed to the same chair she had sat in when she had first talked with him. She sat down lazily and eyed him, her head cocking to the side. She flashed him a evil smile. "Tell me Mr Holmes, what are your views on masturbation?" She asked calmly.

Caught off guard with the unusual question, he quickly regained his mind. "I find masturbation to be a trivial thing done by those lonely enough to crave any touch, and those will the inability to find pleasure in more intellectual ways. I personally have never masturbated, having found more gain in scientific experiments and deductions." he answered half truthfully, looking at her. Because they are playing as if they had just met, he hadn't actually masturbated yet.

She nodded slowly, "I see...Have you ever witnessed anyone masturbating then? John, perhaps? By accident of course." She winked, "Or some porn website?" She licked her lips slowly.

Quickly thinking back, he nodded. "Yes, I did once catch John with his laptop. He seemed to be enjoying it, though I can't see why." he said, still looking at her.

She chuckled, "Ah, and a woman? Have you ever seen a woman touch herself, Mr Holmes?" She murmured darkly.

This time he could answer completely truthfully. "No, I cannot say that I have. Never having been around women for any particular length of time, I have never had pretense to." he said, glancing around the room in a failed attempt to calm himself.

She leaned back in the chair and spread her legs slightly, running an errand hand lazily along her right inner thigh.

Sherlock felt his breath hitch as his eyes focused on her hand, widening at its motions. His mouth felt dry as he watched her, desire beginning to course through his body again.

"Tell me Mr Holmes," She began softly as she trailed random patterns on her thigh, getting higher and higher, closer to her apex, "How does this..." She said, glancing down at her assaulting hand, "make you feel?"

Taking his eyes off of her hand, he forced himself to look at her face, drinking in her beauty. "It makes me feel..." he paused in search of the right word, "enlivened." he decided, feeling the word was appropriate for the situation. He could feel his member straining against the fabric of his trousers, begging for release.

She cocked an eye at the raging bulge in his trousers, "You certainly seem to be." She husked before running her hand to meet her now moist folds, "Mmm" She gasped, hitting her clit lightly.

His breath hitched again, tighter this time, as he watched her begin to touch herself lightly, his pants tightening even more at the sight. He wanted so badly to go over to her, to give her the pleasure that she was giving herself, but he couldn't.

She eyed him darkly as she bit her lip, and ran two fingers around her swollen nub, teasing herself by not giving direct contact. "Mm, Mr Holmes, I'm getting so very wet..."

"Miss Adler," he choked out at his name on her lips. His eyes were flitting from her hand to her face, unsure of which was better; the movement or the reaction. Her face was flushing, her eyes were darker, like the sky on a stormy day. That combination was heavenly on her, something he had never seen on anyone else. "You are so beautiful, Miss Adler." he said, his pants suddenly way too constricting for his liking. As he watched her, his hips jerked upwards involuntarily, his member begging for friction of any kind.

She chuckled lowly at his frustration, "Why thank you dear how very...ahh..." She moaned, as her fingers directly touched her clit, "sweet..."

He was finding it harder to breath as he watched her, his heart pounding away in his chest. Her voice, mixed with the sensations running through his body, had his mind in a frenzy. "Irene, please..." he begged, forgetting his role.

She chuckled and shook her hair, "I don't think so, Mr Holmes." She purred, before dipping her fingers down across her folds and inserting one into her entrance. "Ohh, ahh!" She groaned.

Sherlock groaned as he watched her fingers disappear into her, his hips jerking more at the sight. He needed some form of release, needed to be in her. _How could she do this to me, just by sitting there and touching herself?_ He couldn't help but think, slightly astonished at his body's reaction to her.

"Talk to me Mr Holmes," She began inserting a second finger and beginning to pump slowly before quickening her pace, "How do you feel...ahh..._now_?"

At her words, Sherlock forced his breathing to slow down, trying to regain part of his mind in order to answer her. "I feel... like... like I'm on fire. Please, Miss Adler, I _need_ you" he finally answered her, his mouth drying out again.

She slowed down her pace, taking her fingers out and bringing them to her mouth where she sucked them slowly and suggestively, "Mm, I am rather tasty." She murmured lowly.

"Please, Miss Adler..." Sherlock trailed off again, unable to form words as he watched her. He knew what she tasted like, what she felt like, and wanted that. His body was screaming at him, telling him to get up and go to her, to find release of some sort in her. "Irene..." he groaned, his hips moving more, watching her.

"Do you want a taste too, dear?" She mocked pityingly, standing up and crossing so that she was just in front of him.

He couldn't answer her, just staring up at her with wide eyes, begging for some kind of touch. In the closer vicinity, he could smell her arousal, see it on her fingers as she walked over to him.

She ran her fingers down back to her centre, dipping them inside and dragging them along her upper wall before taking them out and leaning over him, she placed them in front of his mouth before quickly snatching them away and hitting him across the face with her other hand. "I asked you a question, dear. You will answer me when addressed, do you understand?" She hissed sweetly.

Shocked by the quick slap, he looked at her and nodded. "Yes, Miss Adler. I'm sorry, I understand." he said, his face stinging from the contact, yet it only aroused him more.

She nodded approvingly, "Good boy. Now I'll ask you again, do you want a taste?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes, please, Miss Adler" he replied, looking up at her face.

She brought her moist fingers up to his lips, "Suck." She commanded darkly.

Opening his mouth, he leaned forward slightly and closed his lips around them, sucking softly, moving his tongue around the fingers in an attempt to taste all that he could. The feeling of her fingers in his mouth, along with the taste, made his member twitch in anticipation.

Irene couldn't help but let out a soft moan as she felt her centre begin to throb harder. "Mm, yes, good boy. I really should put you on that leash..." She trailed off, referencing the comment she had made all those months ago.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk around her fingers. The thought of him on a leash was intriguing to say the least, but they had all the time in the world for experimenting. Right now, though, he just wanted her.

She glanced down at his groin, "Do you want me to release you?" She asked him, referring to his aching member.

His breath clinched in his throat at her words. He looked into her eyes, and nodded slightly, as her fingers were still in his mouth. He wanted more, but it was a step in the right direction.

She pulled her fingers out slowly and wiped them along his cheekbone, before kneeling down and unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers slowly. She smirked as his member popped up through his pants, "Hello there." She murmured at him.

Sherlock groaned slightly as he was released. Her breath brushed against it and made his hips jerk slightly in pleasure. He wanted so much to be touched.

She kneeled her elbows on his knees and studied his groin for a moment, licking her lips and taking her leisurely time, thinking of how to continue, "Hmmm..." She teased, glancing up at him with a grin.

He looked down as he felt her elbows on his legs and groaned softly. The sight of her mouth so close to him was torturous pleasure. Her lips were so close, shining in the light.

She flashed him a small grin, "What would like Mr Holmes? Hand or Mouth?" She asked him point blank.

Thinking through the fog in his mind, he reasoned quickly, figuring in her personality and tendencies, and said "H-hand, please", his voice stuttering slightly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, cursing herself for having failed to realise that the brilliant detective would have figured out her little game of opposites. She growled lowly before untucking him from his pants fully and pressing a kiss to his head.

Smirking internally, Sherlock felt his mouth fell open slightly as her lips pressed to his member.

She winked him before sliding her mouth down his head and shaft and sucking slowly as her tongue tickling his tip.

The feeling of the warm mouth and tongue on him was pure ecstasy in his needy state, and he leaned his head against his arms and closed his eyes, a groan breaking through his lips, louder this time than before.

She bobbed her head a few times before taking him out of her mouth and stand up, pacing around the room lazily.

His head shot up as the feeling of her mouth left. Looking around the room, he saw her pacing slowly. He was so close, his breath came in pants and gasps. "Miss Adler?" he asked, nearly begging.

She turned an eye to him, leaning against the mantelpiece nonchalantly, "Mm, yes, Mr Holmes?" She asked feigning innocence.

"Please, Miss Adler. Take me, please! I need you." he ended in a groan, his voice having taken a pleading nature. His body was screaming at him to get up, to go take her against the wall, but he could not.

She lifted a brow in mock surprise, "And what _exactly _is it you need from _me_?" She asked, walking towards him slowly.

Sherlock groaned in frustration, much like he would when working a case. "You! I need to be in you, to feel you around me. I need your touch, your body on mine. Please, Irene, I need you!" he babbled, spilling everything that he was feeling into his words. He felt like he was on fire, like he was going to burn up at any moment.

She smirked, "Say it." She challenged, "Talk dirty and say it." She ordered, her tone more fierce this time.

"Please, Irene, fuck me. I want to feel my dick inside of you, feel your breasts as you fuck me. Fuck me, Irene." he ground out, realising what she wanted him to say.

Irene moaned at the sound of his velvet voice producing those words and sounds. She pulled his pants and trousers so that they hit his ankles before re-straddling him, running her hand between them so that she could grip him and trace him along her opening, tantalizingly.

Sherlock groaned loudly as he felt her hand grip him, pull him along her opening teasingly. His hips thrust upwards against her hand, trying to find friction.

"Eh, eh, eh." She scolded, I'm on top this time. I own you, do you understand?" She growled.

Nodding almost violently, he looked into her eyes, begging and pleading without saying anything. He needed release.

She leaned down to whisper, "Good boy." As she slowly and agonizingly lowered herself onto him. "Ahh." She let out a moan similar to that of her text alert noise.

The feeling of her around him after so long of needing release was intense. Groaning loudly, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, focusing only on her voice and the feelings that surrounded him. It was pure bliss.

Irene began to lift herself up and down on his lap, pumping slowly as her hands raked down his chest and she tilted her head back, thrusting her chest forward close to his.

He could feel her moving on top of him, the sensation rocketing pleasure and bliss through him. He groaned louder, arching slightly as he felt her chest touch his. He wanted so badly so touch her, press her into the couch and make her forget her name, but he could not while his hands were bound.

Irene increased her movements, bringing her hands to clutch his shoulders as she rode him harder and harder, a scream of pleasure escaping her throat as her head faced the ceiling.

Sherlock groaned louder and louder as she sped up, her thrusts sending wave after wave of satisfaction through him, but it wasn't enough. "Irene, please, release me. I need to touch you" he husked, forcing his head up to look at her.

"You _are _touching me." She reminded him, increasing her pace further as her nails dug into his skin.

"I heed to hold you, caress you. Please Irene, let me go!" he said more forcefully as she sped up her pace again.

She sighed a moment, ceasing her movements. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his as she finally untied the shirt from around his wrists. "There now, you're free Mr Holmes." She purred, beginning to thrust down on him once more.

Quickly, he moved his hands to fondle her, massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples as she began to move again.

She groaned out as she sat down on him harder and hard, "Mmmm Mr Holmes." She groaned.

"Oh, Miss Adler..." He groaned loudly. Getting a wicked idea, he moved his hands to her hips, gripping them tightly before quickly moving so that she was pressed, on her hands and knees, against the seat of the couch while he remained in her, her back facing him as he pounded, hard and fast, into her.

Irene gasped at the sudden flip of control as he took her from behind. God, she loved to be had this way. When it was someone worthwhile at least. She dug her nails into the sofa cushion as she thrust her arse back and against him to meet his pumps.

"God, Irene..." Sherlock groaned, reaching a hand around to grab her breast, teasing and twisting the nipple roughly. He pumped quicker, placing his other hand on her hip for stabilization. Leaning forward, he pressed open mouthed kisses on her neck and back, continuing to move within her.

She arched her back down to push her bum against his chest further, "Harder, my love, harder!" She begged, on the verge of climax as she felt her body tingle all over.

Complying to her command, he moved his hips with more force. Moving the hand that gripped her hip, he slowly trailed it down until he felt her nub beneath his fingers. Pressing gently against it, he moved his fingers in opposing time to his thrusts. He was so close, so ready to cum, but he wanted her to fall first.

Irene screamed as he touched her clit, feeling herself shake an clench around him as she came hard, her body filling with lush pleasure and warmth. "Ahh, Sherlock!" She hissed.

The feelings of her clenching around him, along with his name on her lips, pushed him over that final ledge. "Irene! Oh God, Irene" he nearly screamed, his hips moved more erratically as he came, riding out his orgasm. His body filled with bliss, his sight going strangely white for a moment.

She gasped again as she felt him come inside of her. She bit her lower lip as she dropped to her elbows, exhausted and still miles above the earth. "Fuck." She muttered.

As his orgasm ended, he had to stop himself from falling on top of her, instead choosing to press kisses to her back. "God, Irene," he muttered, unable to find words for what he felt.

***End of sex scene***

She whimpered slightly, as she fell fully to on her front, sighing happily, "Jesus Sherlock, where the bloody hell did you learn _that _specific position?" She asked him, greedily.

"While I was doing my..._research_, I came across one where the participants did that. I don't know exactly why I did that, but I think that you liked it." Sherlock smirked, rearranging them so that they laid on their sides, her back pressed to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Mmhmm, it's secretly my favourite, truth be told." She confessed with a blush. "And did you enjoy it? It gives the man much more control."

"Hm... I did enjoy it, though I do much prefer when I can see your face when you climax. As for control, I don't think that is exactly my_... area_ of expertise." he said, playing with a strand of her hair absentmindedly.

She chuckled, "Wow, the great Sherlock Holmes not wanting to be in control and having the last say. My, my I _must _be special." She teased him.

"Trust me, you are something much more than _special, _Irene Adler. And I love you for that." Sherlock said truthfully. She was something that could not be described with words.

As the two lay there silently, relaxing and listening to each other's soft breathing, Sherlock's phone rang. Groaning slightly, he slowly untangled himself from Irene, looking down at her. She was sleeping, her body curling into a loose ball on the couch. Smiling down at her, he draped a throw blanket over her before leaving the room and answering his phone.

"Yes, Mycroft, what is it?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake her.

"Sherlock, the car is enroute to your location. Make sure that you and your... _lady friend_ are ready to go when it arrives." Mycroft said, the sound of tapping coming through the speaker.

"Okay, anything else?" Sherlock asked, again quiet.

"Why are you being quiet? You are never quiet when you talk to me." Sherlock could hear the suspicion in Mycroft's voice as he questioned him.

"Because _my lady friend,_ as you so eloquently put it, is currently sleeping in the next room over and I would think it best not to wake her. Now, is there anything else, Mycroft, or can I hang up on you?" Sherlock ground out in annoyance.

"We may have a lead on one of the men in Moriarty's circle. We need to make certain, though, before we send you out there. You should have a few more days here before we send you out, if it is true." Mycroft said, his voice full of authority.

"Okay, Mycroft. Thank you for telling me, and we will be ready when the car arrives. Goodbye, Mycroft" Sherlock said before hanging up the phone.

Sighing quietly, he leaned his back against the white wall, running his hands over his face in exasperation. This all would have been so much easier had he not gotten with Irene. Not that he regretted it, no never, but he did wish that he had used some common sense instead of letting his heart rule his actions; he just couldn't resist.

Irene mumbled something in her sleep as she reached behind her, her grasp reaching nothing. She frowned, blinking her eyes open groggily, "Sh-Sherlock?" She muttered running a hand through her hair and sitting up.

Upon hearing a slightly muddled voice call his name, Sherlock straightened up and walked back into the living room, smiling at the sight that greeted him. Irene was sitting up against the arm of the sofa, the blanket still around her, and her hair tousled from their previous activities. Sitting down next to her, he looked into her eyes. "Mycroft called. The car will be here soon and we need to be ready for when it arrives. Once it gets here, we will be taken to a hidden location, somewhere that will be safe for the time being." He hesitated, unsure of whether or not to tell her of the lead.

She nodded slowly, blinking back a few hot tears, knowing that they wouldn't be like this again for a few months or two. She wrapped her arms around his neck and climbed onto his lap, "Kiss me one last time...Mr Sherlock Holmes." She begged, stroking his cheek gently.

Unable to resist, he gently pressed his lips to hers, trying to remember her unique taste for the times to come. His eyes closed as he wound his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him.

She moaned against his lips before letting out a soft sob, unable to help herself. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled back to kiss his cheeks a dozen times. The tears ran freely now, she had no idea where they were coming from or why, but a part of her felt like she wouldn't see him for a very long time. "Sherlock...I...I..._Fuck_, I love you...please know that, my darling." She wiped the tears away, embarrassed and confused by her reactions.

"Oh, Irene...I do know, I do know that you love me, and I will never forget that. I love you too, _mon amour_" He whispered, looking into her eyes as his hand reached up to brush the tears away. "I will always love you, Irene. No matter what happens, no matter where these next few months take us, remember that I will always love you, until the day that I die." He said, nearly choking on his own tears as he spoke. '_Emotions, such a nuisance_'he thought absentmindedly.

As if remembering simultaneously, the two of them stood up, their hands intertwining, and walked from the room. There was still a bit to do before the car got there, and they didn't know when that would be.

Once dressed, and Irene's bag by the door, they sat together, not speaking, in wait for the car. Neither knew what to say, nor did it matter, for they had the next few days to say everything that they needed to before he had to leave.

_**So, there you have it, the third chapter in That Night. We hope that you liked it, and if you have any ideas, plot twists, compliments or complaints, names for the kid(s), anything, please send them in! Love you guys!**_


	4. The Move

_**Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to get this up, Abigail just got back from London yesterday, and we finished it today. Anyways, I just want to remind you that the poll is still up on my profile for how many babies and what sex you want the babies to be (you have the choice of one or twins) and with that; please read on! LOVE YOU!**_

Scenery flew past them; trees, buildings, and people seeming to move backwards as they drove by. The car was silent, Sherlock and Irene taking comfort in each others silence, while the driver just stared straight ahead. Their hands were clenched together, fingers intertwining tightly as they stared out of their respective windows. Neither really knew what to say, both lost in their own thoughts and worries about what lie ahead to force anything out.

Irene tore her gaze to look at the man she loved, "Does he know it's _me_?" She asked quietly, adjusting the black hood with a fur trim over her head.

An amused smirk broke through Sherlock's previously stone expression. "No, I don't remember telling him that it was you. I believe that he still thinks you to be dead." He said, looking at her with a smile.

She grinned darkly, "He's going to have the fright of his life." She murmured, squeezing his hand lightly.

Sitting up a bit straighter, the smirk still on his face, Sherlock squeezed her hand in return, pulling her over slightly so that she could rest her head on his shoulder, moving his arm to rest around her shoulders. They remained silent for a while before Sherlock spoke again, this time with a little concern. "Irene, I need to tell you... they may have gotten a lead on one of the men in Moriarty's circle. Some people are checking to see if it is correct, since it is based on rumors, but it looks like, as of right now, I may have to leave sooner than we thought."

She leaned up from his shoulder, frowning slightly, "Oh?" She swallowed, biting her lip, "I see." She said quietly, resting her head back on his shoulder, not wanting him to see how sad that made her.

Even without seeing her face, he could tell by the change in her pulse and the sudden stiffness in her posture, that she was upset about the news. "Irene, look, everything is going to be fine. I know that you- that we both- wanted me to stay as long as we could, but think about it this way; the sooner we get rid of the circle, the sooner I can come back and be with you. The sooner they are gone, the sooner you are safe and we can live a somewhat normal life- well, as normal as we can get.

She nodded slowly, "I know...I understand...I'm not an idiot, Sherlock, I understand the...circumstances that come with you." She murmured, moving her hand from his to squeeze his thigh lovingly.

Nodding slightly at her words, Sherlock leaned his head down to rest on hers, the smell of her perfume comforting him slightly. He was worried; there was a lot that could go wrong, a lot of things were still left to chance, and that was something that he couldn't be comfortable with. Sighing lightly, he closed his eyes and focused entirely on Irene; her breathing, her smell, the way she felt when curled up with him, things that he wanted to remember for the times when he would be away from her.

"I love you." She breathed, sighing softly against his chest, knowing that soon he would be parted from her for a long while. She swallowed the sadness down and dug her face into the crook of his shoulder as best she could, not wanting to upset him as well.

This was how they remained for the duration of the trip, curled around each other and completely ignoring the outside world. Yet, as the car pulled onto an almost hidden dirt pathway, they separated, using their free hand to fix their appearances as much as they could. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, Sherlock let go of her hand as the car came to a stop before stepping out to help her.

The area was much more rural than either of them were used to, surrounded by trees. The house was not small, a comfortable medium size that could fit four or five people. The outside was an off white, nothing too noticeable with the surrounding area, with a brown roof that seemed to disappear with the canopy. They were definitely a while from London.

Irene swallowed as she stepped out and quickly scanned the area; forest and grass abundant. She grimaced slightly at all of the..._nature_. Hyde Park apparently was _not_ the real definition of the word. She glanced at the house, studying it swiftly before glancing back at Sherlock, "You could have told me not to have worn heels." She teased softly, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

"And how, exactly, would my brother have known to tell you that, _Miss Adler_." A deep voice sounded from near the house. Taking a deep breath, in a failed attempt to calm the annoyance that suddenly sparked, Sherlock took Irene's hand and turned to face his older brother.

"Mycroft, what a surprise." He droned, sarcasm heavily set in his words. "I was not aware that we would be..._graced_ with your presence today." He was annoyed, as he was at any time that involved any of his family.

"Yes, well I was hoping to meet the woman that had so stollen my brother's heart, yet it seems that we have already met. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but you were listed as dead just months ago, Miss Adler, were you not?" Mycroft walked towards them, seeming to look down the end of his nose as he stared at Irene.

Irene raised her eyebrows at him, her defense up and her usual air of confidence, flirt, and threat reappearing. "Yes, Mr Holmes senior, that _would _be correct." She replied, remaining vague.

Before Mycroft could continue, though, Sherlock cut in. "Mycroft, shouldn't we continue this inside? It wouldn't do well to discuss such... sensitive information in the open." He drawled, squeezing Irene's hand slightly.

"Yes, of course. Please, come in." Mycroft said. With that, the three of them headed into the house, the car driving off behind them.

The house was two stories, a small staircase leading up to the second floor. There were three rooms on both floors, along with two bathrooms. The rooms were open, furnished with the necessities including, Sherlock couldn't help but notice as they entered, a violin case and music stand in the corner of the sitting room. The walls were beige with a dark brown trim, the carpet soft yet untouched. The house had not been used in the past, most likely freshly built for this particular situation.

Taking a seat on the sofa, Irene's hand still clutched in his, Sherlock looked at his brother again. "So, Mycroft, since you have met Irene, I assume that you would like to know how it is that she is not dead. Am I correct?" He couldn't help but ask with a sneer **(Imagine Snape from Harry Potter asking that. That is how I imagine his saying it.)**

"Yes, because you see, I examined the body myself, checked and double checked the DNA samples to make sure that the body was, in fact, Miss Adler, yet here she is today, possibly pregnant with your child, Sherlock. So how was it that you managed to save her, and have the DNA match on the body to the ones on record, yet not get caught?" Mycroft said, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he thought.

Irene grinned and licked her lips, squeezing Sherlock's hand fondly before reaching over to husk those same words in his ear once more, "Go on dear, 'impress a girl.'"

Smiling at her words, Sherlock looked at Mycroft and said; "While I was away on a case, which was painfully simple, I heard a rumor of a woman being sentenced to death for a multitude of reasons. After asking around some, I got a general description of a person matching Irene, and I traveled to see if it was her. After sneaking into the camp that she was in, I managed to disguise myself after knocking the executioner out and taking his place, and saved her. As for the DNA samples, that is of her own doing, not of mine." He finished, his voice having taken the tone of boredom once again.

"Very well. Then how, exactly, did you, Miss Adler, manage to tamper with the DNA and not get caught?" Mycroft asked, turning his head to focus on the woman sitting beside of Sherlock, glancing down at their intertwined hands before looking back at her face.

Irene grinned wickedly, honestly, for being so brilliant both Holmes brothers could be utterly daft at times. "The same way I did it the first time. I know the woman that runs the DNA records, well, I know what she likes, I offered my services in exchange for hers. The body, again, an impeccable double. Honestly, it really wasn't that hard." She purred, leaning back in her chair and stealing a glance at Sherlock to judge his reaction.

Sherlock could have guessed her answer, it was so obvious, yet as she said it, visions began to form in his head of her, with another woman in _that _way, and he had to take a breath to calm himself. Glancing at Irene, he squeezed her hand as he caught her eye.

"I see. Well, I must be getting back to the office now, and I will let you get settled. Just remember that while I can do many things to ensure your safety, I cannot stop somebody from tracking a phone call or IP address, so do be careful." Mycroft said while standing up.

"Good day, Mycroft. And tell Anthia that I said hello." Sherlock said, his eyes drifting towards the violin.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. And goodbye, Miss Adler." Mycroft said, leaving the room, the sound of the front door closing following just seconds after.

Irene watched him go and cleared her throat slightly as the door shut. She turned to Sherlock and smiled weakly. "Well, that was..._fun_." She breathed, sarcastically.

"Not the word that I would have used, but how about we forget about my brother and go see what is in the house?" Sherlock said, standing up and offering her his hand to help.

She nodded, taking his hand and standing up, "But only if you promise we can do some heavy petting in a closet." She murmured, a glint in her eye.

"Of course, love." Sherlock said, his voice deepening as he pressed a kiss to her lips. And so they set off, walking around the first floor and seeing what was there. Everything was pretty standard; kitchen, dining room, sitting room, and a bathroom were on the first floor. Heading upstairs, they found a large bedroom with a queen sized bed and a large bathroom attached to it, a room that seemed to be a sort of lab/music room, but when they got to the last room, they just stood there for a moment, looking at what was behind the door.

Neither of them knew what they were expecting; a guest room, or another bathroom, but not that. Behind the door was a medium sized room, not too big or too small, and the first thing they saw, was a crib. Made from dark wood, a crib stood in the corner of the room, which was painted a soft green, and had a mobile of the solar system, the planets slowly rotating around the sun. Sherlock smirked slightly; _Very funny, Mycroft._ Stepping into the room, he noticed a rocking chair near the crib, some stuffed animals, diapers and formula mix, a bottle heater, and a dresser that most likely held some unisex outfits. On the wall across from the crib hung a framed poster of the periodic table, like the one that Sherlock had in his own room at 221b. As he looked around, Sherlock couldn't help but feel an odd tightening in the pit of his stomach, tears pricking at his eyes slightly.

Irene gasped softly and brought a hand to cover her mouth as she took in the room. It was beyond perfect. Mycroft really had outdone himself. She crossed to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him from the side, leaning her head against his shoulder and placing her right hand on his chest. Tears fell slowly from her eyes as she blinked them back, "Sherlock...God...It's...it's perfect...I do hope I'm..." She bit her lip, not wanting to think of the alternative.

"I know... I do too, Irene. I really hope that you are pregnant... just think, in a few days you can take the test that should tell if you are pregnant, and then we can go from there. Just a few more days, and we will know." Sherlock said, pressing a kiss to her head and closing his eyes to hold back his tears.

She nodded against him and took a deep breath, collecting herself once more. "Right, well shall we find that closet?" She teased, wanting to enjoy her last day or so with him fully.

Smirking, he nodded, taking her hand and walking to the large bedroom. Walking over to the closet door, he pushed it open, allowing her to enter before closing it behind them. Turning towards her, he pushed her up against the one open wall, pressing his lips to hers forcefully, one hand flat against the wall and the other on her waist.

***Sex Starts Here***

Irene gasped slightly at his sudden assault, but it was quickly silenced by his mouth. She moaned as she opened it for him and her hands snaked up to curl in his locks. She pushed her pelvis against his.

Feeling her movements, he rolled his hips to meet hers, the friction causing his member to stir. He moved his hand from the wall to run up and down her abdomen and between her breasts slowly, his eyes closing as he tangled his other hand in her hair.

She thrust her tongue into his mouth as her right hand left his hair and trailed around to squeeze his arse playfully. She smirked against his lips, knowing he wouldn't expect this.

Sherlock's hips jerked forward slightly at the feel of her hand on his arse, his arousal increasing with the feeling. He moved his hand that was trailing on her front to move under her shirt and gently squeeze her breast and he moved his other hand to rest on her hip, holding them in place.

"Mmm, Sherlock." Irene moaned breaking the kiss to catch her breath as she bit her lip in frustration and arousal. She brought both hands to his belt buckle and undid it in a flash, whipping it out of his loops in one swift motion and tossing it aside. "Mm, I should whip you with that..." She husked against his ear.

Sherlock moved his lips down to her neck, sucking and nipping at the pulse point lightly. "Not today, Irene. Mmm... just you and me, today." Sherlock whispered against her skin, now moving his hand to undo the buttons on her shirt.

She pouted in jest before reply to his stripping of her shirt, "My someone is eager..." She purred as her hands unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped his fly as slowly as she could, her eyes locking with his.

"Mmm," Sherlock moaned softly, "says the woman who is currently undoing my trousers." he joked, finally undoing all of the buttons and sliding it off, tossing it over with his belt. Sighing slightly with relief, he moved down to kiss the tops of her breasts, the skin soft under his lips.

She arched her back and threw her head back a deep moan emitting from her lower throat. She thrust her hand down his pants and gripped him tightly, her hand beginning to stroke him slowly.

Sherlock groaned lowly at the feel of her hands around him, his hands moving to undo her bra, it was a front clasp, and took one of her nipples into his mouth, biting and teasing it gently with his tongue as his hand moved to tease the other one.

She groaned and bucked against him, "Sh-Sherlock you know what that does to me..." She whimpered, beginning to tug at him harder and faster.

Smirking slightly, he moved his hands to undo the zip on her skirt, pulling that down and letting it pool around her feet. Straightening up, he looked at her, pulling her hands from his pants and undoing his shirt. "Trust me, I know exactly what that does to you." he husked, his purple shirt and trousers sliding from his body, quickly joining the pile of clothes. Moving forward again, he pressed his lips to hers, his hands grabbing her thighs and picking her up, her legs wrapping around him.

She grinned in delight at how controlling he had become. God it was arousing, to have him man handle her like that. Lifting her up and wrapping her around him. Her wet folds rubbed against his throbbing member, pressed against his abdomen. "Ohh Sherlock...I love when you're like this... " She husked, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

"God, Irene..." Sherlock whispered, moving to position himself at her entrance. He groaned loudly as he thrust in, the heat and her tightness overwhelming as always. Pressing one hand against the wall, he moved his mouth to suck on her breast again, his other hand holding onto her thigh.

Her nails dug into his skin as he pounded into her. She locked her ankles around him, "Fuck, you feel so good!" She half screamed, unable to control herself as she began to meet his thrusts.

"Dear God... Irene!" Sherlock moaned, moving faster as she moved against him. Moving his hand from her thigh, he pressed it against her chest, teasing the taut flesh beneath it. He loved her like this; wild and passionate, not caring about the world around them or about keeping her guard up, just being herself.

She tilted her head back as she hugged him towards her, leaning forward and biting his shoulder as she bobbed on him repeatedly. She kissed where she had been biting as she felt a tingling sensation spread over her body as he thrust into her and attacked her breasts. "Harder, love, harder." She begged.

Groaning as she bit him, he pushed in harder and faster, pleasure filling his entire body now. "Fuck, Irene... oh God..." he groaned, pressing his lips to hers with force. He wrapped an arm around her lower back, holding her to him tightly. He could tell that she was close, she just needed that little push. Moving his head slightly, he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, sucking and nipping hard enough to leave a bruise.

She let out a primal scream as he pounded her, feeling her toes curl and her walls squeeze around him. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming...so...hard." She gasped, jerking against him as the waves of pleasure continued to crash over her.

The feeling of her orgasm, her body clenching around him tightly, pushed him over. Sherlock felt his head snap back, his mouth falling open in a loud groan as he came. "Fuck! God, Irene..." He groaned, moving his head to rest against her neck as he came down from the euphoria. "Fuck..." he moaned quietly.

***End Sex Here***

She finally relaxed against him, still pressed against the wall and him snugly inside her. She sighed in post-orgasmic bliss, leaning her forehead against his. "I can't believe I just got you to myself and get to do that with you and now you have to jet off and save the world." She murmured, not wanting to dampen the wondrous mood but unable to help it.

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her words. "I know, it does seem like the thing I would do. But it won't be for long, and when I get back you can have me for as long as you want." he said quietly. And that she would, he would make sure of it.

***Time Jump***

Irene found herself in the nursery once again; she seemed to be drawn there like a moth to a flame. It was odd really. She had never been the 'maternal type,' and yet, though she had no idea if she was even pregnant for certain, the sheer _possibility _of being so with _his_ child had seemed to send her into a sort of 'baby-fever.' She bit her lip, slightly disgusted with herself for so readily adopting such a _sentimental_ and feminine nature, still, what could one do? Circumstances change, the heart evolves, what once mattered did so no longer and what one thought would never matter suddenly became one's entire world. Family...She was actually going to have one. She scoffed to herself sardonically; that is one thing the Irene of a few months ago would have surely laughed at with nauseating malice. Funny how love inspires the novel and foreign, she mused to herself as her fingers slid along the dark mahogany wood of the crib.

Sherlock closed his eyes as he dragged the bow across the taut strings, the familiar vibrations creating a soft melody. He had been going over the plan in his head; where he was going, who he was meeting with, who they were tracking, and mostly; how safe Irene was going to be. There were many ways that the plan could go; from a complete success, to a complete failure that ended in him dying for real. He had spoken to Mycroft about what would happen with Irene and his possible child, should that occur, and he was assured that they would be taken care of as best as Mycroft could, for while his brother was cold hearted and annoying, he cared about family more than anything, and for that, Sherlock was grateful.

Irene sighed softly to herself as she heard the man she so loved rake his bow across his beloved violin. She smiled slightly as she made her way down the stairs and to the living room. She leaned in the large doorway and crossed her arms, admiring the meticulous skill and agility of his movements and focus. She waited for him to notice her, not wanting to disrupt one of the final moments of peace and tranquility he would probably have for a good few weeks.

Sherlock could feel another presence enter the room, eyes watching him as he played, yet he chose to ignore them and finish the piece. Sighing slightly as he played the last note, he gently placed the violin and bow down before turning and walking over to Irene, pulling her into his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, remembering that she was safe and would be safe so long as Mycroft had people to protect her. "I love you, Miss Irene Adler ." He whispered, leaning his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes, trying to memorize the unique shade of blue, nearly the color of an Indian Sapphire.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, falling into him with ease and eagerness. She nuzzled her face against his chest as her hands gripped his torso lightly, "And I you, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She murmured, kissing his chest softly.

Sighing softly, Sherlock took her hand and led her to the couch, laying down with his head resting against the arm, and pulled her on top of him, so that she was curled against his chest. Breathing deeply, he held one of her hands and used his other hand to run through her hair gently, untangling and loosening it slowly. He focused solely on her; her breathing, her smell, the way she felt, everything, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to do this for a while, and wanted to remember it. _"Je t'aime tellement, mon amour, et je vous promets que vous serez toujours en sécurité, même si je ne suis pas là pour vous protéger, vous deux."_ He whispered, sorrow and love beginning to squeeze at his chest.

**_Okay, so that was the end of that chapter! Now, before any of you message me about it, I did some research, and according to the First Response pregnancy test website, a woman that uses their product can test 6 days before their missed period, and with the math that me and Abigail did, since she was between 2 and 2.5 weeks before her period, that would leave 14-16 days, leaving 8-10 days before she could test. We figure that Sherlock is with her at the flat for 4-5 days, and so is about 3 days she can test. Anyways, we are working on the next chapter already, but if you have any suggestions, requests, or critiques, go ahead and review with your input! Also, what Sherlock said in French was; _**_I love you so much, my love, and I promise you that you will always be safe, even if I'm not there to protect you two. **Well, thanks for reading and have a nice day! Love you!****  
**_


	5. Meeting with Mycroft

_**Hey people! So, here is the next chapter, and just a quick note; there is NO sex in this chapter; we felt that it wouldn't be appropriate for the situation in this chapter. Anyways, just a reminder that the poll is still up on my profile for voting on children, so please go vote, we could really use the input. Hope you enjoy!**_

Soft, orange light streamed through the windows, falling over the two figures on the sofa. Both were breathing deep, their eyes closed and sleeping soundly. Sherlock and Irene had taken comfort in each other and, exhausted from the stress, fallen asleep on the sofa. Sherlock had on arm wrapped around Irene's waist, the other holding her hand, and both had soft smiles on their faces. Had the circumstances of their location been different, and the actions set to take place in the near future nonexistent, this would have looked like a wonderful, heartfelt moment. Be that as it may, the two still found time within the suddenly hectic schedule to show their love for one another.

Unbeknownst to them, though, a figure stood in the archway that led to the rest of the house. An air of amusement and slight exasperation surrounded this figure as he watched the two sleeping. Shaking his head slowly, he walked forward, the umbrella clutched in his right hand as always. Looking down at his sleeping brother, Mycroft raised the umbrella and brought it down sharply on Sherlock's head, jolting him, and his companion, awake as well.

Irene furrowed her brow as she felt her lover beneath her start suddenly. "Sherlock...?" She murmured softly, blinking her eyes open and frowning as she saw no other than _The Iceman _before them. Sighing softly, she reluctantly untangled herself from him to sit up properly and face his annoying, yet extremely well connected, older brother. "Ah, Mr Holmes, senior, thank you for the...alarm." She muttered sardonically, glancing at Sherlock and reaching for his right hand subtly, giving it a slight squeeze with her own.

Forcing his eyes to stay open, Sherlock glared at his older brother, who was currently looming over them, and moved to sit up, only to find that Irene was sitting on his legs. "Yes, hello Mycroft. To what do we owe the... _pleasure _of your company?" He couldn't help but snark, moving gently to work his legs from under Irene, his hand still held in hers.

Mycroft couldn't help but smirk at the slight situation that his brother was in as he sat down across from them. "It seems, little brother, that due to this recent situation, we need to discuss a plan of action, if you will. And yes, that will include Miss Adler." He said, his hand resting on the curve of the umbrella's handle.

Irene licked her lips quickly, glancing down as she adjusted her position, aligning her body against Sherlock's. They _were _in this together after all. For better or for worse and all that sentimental pish posh. She gripped his hand tighter before saying, "And _what_ about me, Mr Holmes?"

"First of all, to start with you Miss Adler, there are precautions that need to be taken if you are, indeed, pregnant, one being finding a physician for you that will not speak of your whereabouts should they be placed under torture. Now, I have a list of possibilities, and my connections will look into their backgrounds and see how trustworthy they can be-" Sherlock cut his brother off quickly.

"John." He said, squeezing Irene's hand.

Mycroft paused for a second before nodding slightly. "John. I hadn't considered him, but he would seem to be the best option in these circumstances. I will talk to him, but Sherlock, he cannot know that you are alive, remember that." Mycroft said, his voice guarded slightly.

"I know, but it just seems like it would be right for John to help with my child when I am not around." Sherlock had been thinking of this for a day or so now, but he had yet to bring it up with Irene, thinking that he would have time before he left to do so.

Irene glanced at Sherlock, raising her left brow slightly, "John...?" She considered his suggestion for a moment, recalling her tender conversation with him on the bench in the park before deciding finally and firmly, "Yes...I want Dr Watson...I insist."

Mycroft nodded at her words. "Very well, I will see what can be done to get Doctor Watson to come. Now, there is also the matter of your movement, Sherlock. Miss Adler, if you would please leave us, I think that would be for the best." Mycroft said, looking at her.

Irene's nostrils flared slightly at Mycroft's easy and assumed dismissal of her. "Oh, I don't think so Mr Holmes. If what you have to discuss involves the life of the man I have...come to love and adore, then I do _insist _on joining you. If you may recall, I might be carrying his-_our_-child. I have a right." She hissed lowly, glaring at him darkly.

Sherlock knew from the moment that Mycroft opened his mouth that she was going to have that reaction. Shooting a warning glance to his brother, he grabbed Irene's hand gently and lead her into the hall. Once they were out of sight, he turned to her, looking her in the eyes. "Irene, please, I need you to understand something. If something goes wrong during this, if one of Moriarty's men were to find out about us, they will come after you and they will torture you for information. The safest thing that we can think of right now, should it come to that, is to keep you in the dark about as much of the plan as possible, so they will have no reason to harm you. Please, just let us talk for a little while. We just want to keep you safe." He said, placing a hand against her cheek softly.

Irene ran her tongue over her teeth, a habit she had recently picked up from him, as she crossed her arms and glanced at the wall opposite where they were standing. She huffed to herself, considering her response. "Sherlock...Do you realise how bloody hard that is for me, what you're asking of me? What if it was the other way around? What if I was asking you to butt out, when it came to _my_ very life?" She countered quickly.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second, taking a breath to collect his thoughts. "I understand, trust me I do. I have thought about how I would feel in your place, and I know that this is extremely hard for you to do, but please, for your own safety, and the safety of our child, please listen to me. The less that you know, the safer you will be. Please, love, I need you to do as I say." He whispered to her, staring into her eyes pleadingly.

Irene sighed in reluctance, knowing that his case was valid once, and that she _would _relent. She eyed him, her hands running up his torso and chest to cup his face. "Fine, Sherlock. Fine. But...but I swear to God, if you let that brother of yours put your life in danger...I _will_ kill him. Just...just do whatever it is you have to do, and come home as quickly as possible. Home...to _me_...To- to _us_...hopefully." She murmured, glancing down at her womb briefly.

Smiling at her words, Sherlock moved his hand from her cheek to lift her jaw, pressing his lips to hers for a moment. "Thank you. Trust me, my brother is many things, but he will try his hardest to keep me as safe as he can. And I will be home for you, both of you. I promise. I love you, Irene, remember that." He said, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment before pulling away.

Irene let out a small whimper of sorrow and sudden, choking fear as she moved her hands away from his face and wrapped her arms around his neck furiously. She blinked her eyes closed tightly as her chin pressed on his shoulder. She could feel the hot tears begin to form behind her lids and willed them to please, please stop. A short sob escaped from her chest, however, and she felt a stream of moist drops begin to run down her cheeks. "I fucking hate you sometimes." She laughed sardonically. "Look what you've reduced me-_The Woman_-to."

A short chuckle forced it's way up his throat at her words, and he pressed his face to her hair, closing his eyes for a moment before pulling away and unlocking her arms from him. "I love you too, Irene. Now, go upstairs. I'll be up soon, alright." He said, kissing her quickly before turning to walk back into the sitting room.

**In the sitting room**

Mycroft looked up as Sherlock entered the room, pretending not to notice his slightly slumped frame. "Well then, on to business. I have received word from a few reliable sources, and they say that the circle is hiding out in Moscow. Now, I have had my men look into this, and they can confirm that they are indeed in Moscow. With that information, I have been able to acquire the suspected names and faces of the members working for Moriarty." At this, Mycroft pulled a folded manilla folder from his inside coat pocket, handing it over to his brother.

Sherlock opened the folder, pulling out the stack of papers that were inside. "Names, faces, suspected associates, and general area of residency. I suspect that I will need to have a fake identity, something to blend in with the locals, and a place to stay while I search for them." He said, studying the information that had been given to him.

"I am having Anthia process a fake identity for you; passport, birth certificate, the works. I am also getting in touch with a friend of mine, one who owes me a favor. They may have a flat that you can stay at while you work the case. You have a flight booked for next week, a direct flight into Moscow, which will give you 5 days to get ready to leave." With that, Mycroft stood up, his umbrella in hand, and turned to leave.

Sherlock, seeing Mycroft's movements, stood up and looked at his brother. "Mycroft... thank you. Thank you for keeping Irene safe while I'm gone." He said, feeling very awkward saying that to his brother.

"You are welcome, Sherlock. I understand the feeling, with everything that Greg gets into. Just, please try and keep out of trouble, that is all I ask." Mycroft said before leaving the house.

Sherlock shook his head at his brothers words, still finding it hard to believe that Lestrade and his brother were dating. Gathering up the papers again, he placed them back in the folder and slid them into his coat pocket, which was hanging in the hallway, before walking upstairs to Irene.

**Upstairs**

After having decided to allow Sherlock and his older brother to discuss the intended plan for her lover alone, Irene had made her way upstairs to the nursery, the only room in the house that seemed to give her some comfort. She sat down in the rocking chair in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself as she leaned her head against her right shoulder, sighing wearily to herself. She bit her lip and willed herself not to dwell on the weeks that were soon to come without him. When she would find out if she were with child-alone. She bit her quivering bottom lip and cursed to herself, wondering how much longer he would be. She wanted nothing more than to curl herself in his arms and memorise the feel.

Sherlock walked into the nursery quietly, having seen the light on from the hallway. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he watched Irene rock back and forth, her arms wrapped around her abdomen, sleeping (if her breathing pattern was anything to go by). Taking a breath and shaking his head, he walked over to her, picking her up in his arms, and walked out of the room, turning the light off with his elbow as they left. Slowly, he walked into the bedroom and laid her down before shaking her shoulder slightly to wake her. "Irene, love, you need to change out of those clothes. Come on now, wake up." He whispered to her.

Irene stirred, blinking her eyes open groggily, unaware that she had even fallen asleep. "Mm, wha-what?" She murmured, sitting up and rubbing her eyes softly.

"Hey, you fell asleep in the nursery. Let's get you changed out of those clothes, and then we can go to bed, alright?" Sherlock said, pulling her up to standing and keeping her steady as they walked across to the closet.

She nodded slowly, standing up and running her hands through her hair. "Yes, yes I suppose that would be best..." She murmured, trailing off at the end, beginning to unbutton her blouse as she stole a glance at him. "How was your...conversation?" She asked him quietly.

"It was fine, just going over some details, but we can talk about some of it tomorrow, alright? For now, let's just go to sleep." Sherlock said, slipping out of his shirt and trousers.

Irene swallowed down the lump in throat as she unzipped her pencil skirt and pulled it down, exposing her black, lace knickers, garter belt, and signature pin-striped stockings. She bit her lip as she realised the seductive nature of her current 'outfit,' "Sorry..." She muttered, her arms hugging her torso once more a bit shamefully.

Frowning at her slightly, Sherlock moved toward her, pulling her arms away from hiding her body. "Hey, why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about." Sherlock was concerned, Irene never acted this way before, even when they were alone or when she was tired. "Irene, what's wrong?" He asked.

She shrugged slightly, "Nothing...it's, nothing...I just...I'm scared, Sherlock. I've become so dependent on you. Or rather _attached_...Even my body...it aches for yours when you aren't by my side...When our hands aren't clutching one another... When we aren't pressed against each other in the throes of passion... I just... I don't want to ache like that for weeks on end... Not knowing if you are even alive or not... Sometimes...sometimes I wish I had never met you...never fell _in love_ with you...I never was so weak, so vulnerable, so utterly breakable before. I loath it at times, I really do. And it's all _your_ fault. You and that damn, brilliant, sexy brain of _yours_...That body of _yours_...that fucking heart of _yours_..." She huffed somewhat angrily. "I...I hate _this_. I hate..._needing_ you and _wanting_ you and not being able to_ live_ without you. It's...it's not who I am...Or rather, not who I _was_. I'm just scared...and...it's...It's not fair." She said firmly, tears streaming down her face and her voice beginning to shake and quiver. "It's...just not...fair." She whispered once more, her arms wrapping around her torso in subconscious comfort.

Sherlock felt as though his heart was breaking at her words. He, too, had felt the longing, the need to touch her, but because of his chosen lifestyle, he was able to resist it more, ignore it even, but Irene was a woman of false passion. She made her living off of other people's enjoyment, and in order to do so she created an emotional barrier to protect herself from getting attached. Now, though, she was being thrown into something that she couldn't handle. She had let down her barrier for him, and now he was leaving her, and that was the one thing that she feared.

"Irene... I know that you are scared, trust me I know, but we cannot change the past, and what happened happened. I know that you just want to run, hide from this, and never look back, but I love you, and I always will. I know that you are worried, frightened, and even slightly ashamed of what has become of you, but please, don't punish yourself because of it. The human mind is a stupid, idiotic thing, and even when you have the most brilliant of minds, it still makes what seems to be the wrong decision. I love you, Irene, and I know that it's not fair for all of this to be thrown on you so suddenly, and for that I am sorry, but I will not apologise for falling for you, I will not say sorry for creating another life with you. Please, you have to understand that..." Sherlock trailed off, unsure of how to continue, so instead he reached forward and pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers tenderly, slowly, hoping to convey everything that he was feeling, every emotion he had buried after they first met, through that kiss.

She resisted his embrace and kiss for a few seconds before giving in to him utterly and completely, his words literally breaking her heart. God, the man was sheer perfection. She snaked her hands around his waist and hugged him tightly as she responded to his kiss just as eagerly and passionately as he had began it. She broke it after a few moments, however, reluctantly removing her tongue from his mouth to search his eyes eagerly, the tears still slowly falling from her own.

She swallowed before murmuring quietly, in almost a whisper, "Sherlock...You are the most brilliant man I have ever met or ever _will _meet, but you are an utter idiot at times...Like I_ could_ or _would _ever actually run away from _you_...from _this_...from _us_. I knew I wanted you the moment I met you-laid eyes on you-and I was bound and determined to have you. Forgive me, please, for those previous words...Sometimes I fall into the state of mind I was in that fateful night _you_ beat_ me_; found out I was '[SHER]locked' and all that. I need you to know, however, despite what I, probably, rather...stupidly have just stated, that I regret _nothing_, at all.

You gave meaning to my life, a meaning I never thought I would know, or ever believed I would have the _honour_ of experiencing. And for that, my darling boy, I am ever in your debt. So, thank you...Thank you, for teaching me to love when I thought my heart incapable; when I thought I was too hardened, too scared, too cowardly to ever do so. You gave me the gift of love and I cannot thank you enough. Jesus, isn't that why we're on this bloody planet? To love each other and all that _sentimental _bullshit? Well, you won, in the end, my dear. You_ did_ beat me...And I must tell you, despite what I previously believed, it has been the best fucking bruise I have ever had." She said finally, wiping her eyes quickly.

Sherlock was utterly speechless at her words, and he could feel hot tears beginning to fill his eyes as she finished. "God, Irene..." he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her dark hair. "I love you so much..." He said, taking a deep breath and pulling away, pressing his lips to hers gently, a hand tangling in her hair.

She closed her eyes tightly, "I love you too Mr Holmes...Mr Sherlock Holmes...So very, very much." She replied softly, clutching him to her fiercely.

Smirking slightly, Sherlock moved to release himself from her, but kept one hand clutching hers. Silently, he led her from the closet and to the bed, moving the duvet back for her to crawl in. Walking around to the other side, he joined her in bed and smiled as he felt her curl up to him. And with that, being exhausted from the physically and emotionally trying events, both Irene and Sherlock fell into a peaceful sleep, not to be woken until the next morning by the rising sun.

_**So that was the chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it, and please review with any input, ideas, stuff like that. We should be starting the next chapter soon, so just be patient! Bye peoples!**_


	6. Needles and Stones

**_Hey people! So, I know this took a while to get posted, we found it slightly difficult to write this chapter. But here it is! Anyways, remember the poll is still up for voting, and send in any ideas or requests and we can see what we can do! LOVE YOU!_**

Irene yawned in her sleep, stretching slightly before snuggling against the warm body that had its arms wrapped around her form. She smiled softly as she slowly came out of the dream she had been having about Sherlock and and something about a bicycle-an ironic and amusing idea in itself. He shifted in his sleep, jarring her fully into consciousness as she blinked her eyes open and yawned once more. She glanced up at the slumbering detective, a tiny stream of drool falling from the corner of his mouth. She giggled at the sight, knowing full well the scowl of disdain and embarrassment he would surely wear on his face if he knew he had been caught drooling by anyone in his sleep. The man did have a bit of an ego/pride issue-but she wouldn't have him any other way. Unlike too many others that knew the man, his snobbish, prideful, arrogant temper was absolutely charming and amusing to her. She loved it. Well, she loved to torture it and tease it and prod it...But then again she was 'The' Woman for him. She brought a hand up and gently wiped the bit of saliva away with her finger, chuckling lowly. She then leaned up and kissed the corner of his lip gently. "Good morning Mr Holmes." She husked softly, nestling his cheekbone with her nose.

Sherlock groaned softly as he fought to open his eyes against the morning sun. He could hear Irene talking lowly to him, telling him good morning. Wrapping his arms around her, he turned his head and pressed his lips to hers, whispering to her "Good morning, Miss Adler" as he worked on waking fully. He could feel her wrapped around him, pressing against him, and the feelings that were caused was something that he had only ever felt with her, something that he cherished because of his limited time. "How are you feeling, Irene?" He asked, remembering what they would be doing today.

She bit her lip, his words jogging her memory at just what exactly she was going to do today. "Mm, a bit nervous...excited, worried.." She murmured, resting her chin on his chest as she gazed up at him. "And you?"

"Hmm... anticipation, nervousness, the likes." He replied, looking at the ceiling as he spoke. He did feel that, but not just for the reason that she was thinking of. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his hand over her back, the motion soothing the both of them.

She sighed softly, "Well just be thankful you don't have to pee on a bloody stick." She muttered in sarcastic jest, laughing darkly, "Oops, sorry dear, I'm misbehaving, aren't I?" She winked.

A chuckle shook through Sherlock's chest at her words. "Oh come now, it won't be that bad. All you have to do is drink some water and pee on a stick. Nothing too threatening for you, surely." He said, smirking down at her as his hand continued to move.

Irene shoved him playfully, mock hurt on her face, "True dear, but if depending on how that goes I will be the one that has to push a human out of my body. Best treat me well." She said, yawning widely before lying back on the bed and closing her eyes for a moment of rest.

"Do I ever not treat you well?" He asked playfully, running his long fingers over her sides gently, tickling her as she snuggled back into him.

Irene bit her lip trying not to giggle as she kept her eyes closed and grabbed his hands, or at least tried to. "St-Stop it, Sherlock!" She hissed, opening an eye to shoot him a glare of warning.

"If you want me to stop, Miss Adler, you're going to have to make me." Sherlock said, moving his hands a little quicker over her sides.

Irene quirked an eyebrow at him as she continued to try and fight his hands. She gripped his wrists and yanked them off of her finally before rolling on top of him and and straddling his pelvis with her own, throwing his wrists back and above his head she pinned them above his head. She glared down at him, a wicked smirk in her eyes as she gaze at him evilly, "Oh my Mr Holmes, looks like someone needs to be punished, doesn't it?" She husked darkly, leaning down to bite his bottom lip and tug on it before abandoning it suddenly. She ground her pelvis floor against his member, silently cursing him for having worn pants to bed. She much preferred him in his 'battle suit. She did love to tease him, though.

**Sex Scene Starts Here**

"Mmm, it does seem that way, doesn't it Miss Adler." Sherlock said, moving his hips up to meet her roughly, the cotton fabric causing a wonderful friction on him.

Irene licked her lips and grinned as she let out a low purr at his rocking hips as she felt the increased stimulation against her apex and clit. "Tsk, tsk, tsk Mr Holmes, I'm the one in control, or need I remind you?" She hissed lowly, taking both his wrists in her left hand so that she could sit back and run her index finger down his left cheekbone before clutching his chin roughly.

He bit back a soft moan as he felt her nails dig into his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "No, Miss Adler. You are in charge." He said, trying not to move his jaw too much. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to wander over her, taking in every dip and curve that she had.

She cocked her head and grinned smugly as she couldn't help but register his eyes roaming over her form. "See something you fancy, Mr Holmes?" She murmured, her hand tugging his chin up so that he was forced to look into her eyes.

He couldn't help the moan the broke through at her words and movements. "Oh yes, Miss Adler, I do indeed." he husked, his arms tensing under her grip has he felt the need to touch her.

She pouted at him mockingly. "Aw, shame, dear. I'm a bit off limits you see." She replied vaguely, her hips increasing their pace as she thrust against him softly.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk slightly at her words, her movements causing pleasure to shoot through him. "And why is that, Miss Adler?" he asked, forcing himself to look in her eyes.

She leaned back further, her back arching slightly, displaying her round orbs of pale, creamy flesh before him. "I'm spoken for, you see." She answered, her left hand letting go of his wrists as she ran her hands up her body, over bare breasts and up her neck to grasp the bobby pins she had left in her hair, taking them out quickly to let her hair fall around her face.l

Sherlock felt his wrists free from her grasp as she reached up to remove the pins from her hair, and sat up quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck, taking in her taste and scent. "Oh, and would I happen to know them?" he whispered, sucking lightly on her skin.

Irene glared at him, a glint of mischief in her eye. She pushed him back down on the bed, her hands pressing against his shoulders. "Yes, you may know of them. And I told you, Mr Holmes, I'm. Off. Limits. This body is the property of others." She scolded him darkly.

"Tell me about this mystery person, Miss Adler. And I do so wish I could have you for my own, you look so... delectable." he husked, his voice rough as he looked at her.

She did her best not to shiver at his guttural tone. His voice like velvet on steel. She ran her hands through her hair seductively as she replied, "Thank you, dear. But I'm not sure you could handle me...being a virgin and all..." She teased lightly. "My lover is quite evolved in that department...Thanks to me, you see. And he is quite the looker. A face that could cut diamonds." She added, her hands moving down to stroke his pale, soft chest lazily.

"And what exactly does your lover do that gets you so...exhilarated? How do they touch you, kiss you, that just gets to you like nothing else?" he whispered, his hands moving toward her smooth thighs, caressing them gently.

Irene lifted a curious and amused brow. The man was clever, employing her little game against to turn her on. She wasn't about to let him win so easily, however. She narrowed her eyes as she slammed her hands down to cover his on her thighs, halting their process and assault of her lower body. She decided to employ a bit of smut, a bit of dirty talk with him. "Well, Mr Holmes, he fucks me you see...hard and fast...in my...cunt..." She said, emphasising the words, especially the latter as she clicked the final 'T' sound against her teeth. "Sometimes for hours on end...Sorry, you are familiar with what 'cunt' means, aren't you, dear?" She asked him mockingly, beginning to drag his hands up her sides slowly.

Sherlock shivered with pleasure at her words, and looked up at her with a hard yet burning gaze. "It isn't wise, Miss Adler, to look down upon me for the mere fact that I haven't had sex yet. You may find that you are... pleasantly surprised at what I can do." He said, sitting up and staring into her crystal sage-sapphire eyes.

Irene raised her brows in mock impressment. "Oh, really Mr Holmes? I somehow find that hard to believe. I sometimes think you forget you own a cock all together...Much less know how to properly use it."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at her words, defiance bubbling in him. "I assure you, Miss Adler, I am very aware of how to use my own cock properly. If given the chance, however, I may surprise you with what I know." he said, moving one of his hands from her grasp and running it down the small of her back, resting on the crest of her rear.

She narrowed her eyes further, reaching her hand around to grab his at the summit of her arse and yanked it back around to her front, before bringing both hands to cup her breasts, and instructing him to squeeze them firmly. She scoffed sardonically, "Good luck with that, Mr Holmes." She challenged with a grin.

Smirking at her actions, Sherlock moved his hands to tease her erect nipples, and leaned down to press his mouth to the top of her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste her. His clothed hips ground upwards into hers again, the friction heavenly against his straining member.

Irene tried to restrain a low moan from escaping her chest, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily he affected her. She bit her lip as she felt his almost fully hard member rub against her through her knickers, the moisture between her thighs increasing as the full, scheming throb hummed through her bod from her clit. She glanced down at his face at her mounds, her eyes dark and heavy, pregnant with arousal and lust and love for the man before her. "You'll have to do better than that, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She husked with challenge.

Hearing her challenge, Sherlock removed his hands from her breasts and moved them to her waist, gripping her tightly before turning them both over so that she is pressed into the mattress, with him hovering above her. Moving his hands down, he hooked his fingers into her underwear and pulled them down, his body following to remove them completely. Once he was done, and the garment removed, Sherlock moved up again, pressing kisses to her body, and pressed his lips to her, one of his hands finding her clit and gently pressing and rubbing it.

She heard the breath in her throat hitch as he found her swollen nub and began to knead it, her hips bucking slightly despite her desire to look indifferent and unimpressed. She growled in defiance before roughly smacking his hand away and pushing him back so that he fell on his knees. She then sat up and and in one fluid motion brought her hand up and across his right cheek, slapping him in punishment and warning. "I told you Mr Holmes. I'm in control. I'm the dominate one. And I have the control." She hissed darkly, shaking her hand slightly at the sting and praying that he would respond favourably to her slight BDSM shift in tone.

Though shocked at her movements and actions, Sherlock couldn't help but find this side of her completely... sexy. The pain and pleasure that came from being dominated is something even he would not have seen coming, had he been studying it. Recovering from his shock, he lifted his head to look at her through his lashes, his body slightly hunched forward subconsciously. "Yes, Miss Adler. I am sorry, Miss Adler." He said, looking directly into her eyes as he spoke softly.

She continued to glare at him as she shifted into full on dominatrix mode, treating him as she would a client-well, a favourite client as she she sat up for and brought her hand to gently rub his now red, flushed right cheek. "Good boy." She murmured, stroking his cheekbone before reaching back and slapping his other cheek with a sly grin. "Tell me Mr Holmes, because I need to figure out what you like...Does the pain lead to pleasure for you? When I slap you across the cheek, does your cock twitch in arousal? Does the blood in your veins pulsate?" She husked, eyeing him wickedly.

Swallowing hard at her words, he kept his eyes focused on her and nodded, "Yes, Miss Adler." he responded, his breath hitching as he did so.

She smiled slowly, "Good. I can work with that, Mr Holmes. Sherlock." Irene murmured lowly. Her eyes quickly darted around the room, searching for something which she could employ to bind him with. Her eyes finally landed on his, cashmere, designer, navy-blue, signature scarf-a slow and amused grin crossing her lips as she dashed up to retrieve it. She pulled it taut as she sauntered back over to the bed, her eyes large and dark. "Your wrists, Mr Holmes." She ordered sharply.

Sitting up slightly straighter, Sherlock held his arms straights, pressing the insides of his wrists together as she tied his scarf around them, ensuring that he could not use his hands. With that done, he placed his now bound hands in his lap, looking up at Irene.

**Sex Ends Here**

Mycroft Holmes made his way casually down the somewhat dim hallway, yawning slightly as he had been up since 6:00 am and it was already 10:30 am. He checked his phone, wondering if Greg was awake yet before pocketing it with an annoyed sigh at its lack of content. He saw that Sherlock and Irene's door was slightly ajar, and silently thanked them for having the decency to not sleep until noon. They all had a very big day ahead of them, and attention and planning needed to be considered. He pushed the door open lazily as he began to say, "Good morning, little brother, how are we fair-" He froze in his in the doorway as his eyes locked onto the image before him. Irene Adler was standing before his younger brother, naked but for a pair of very skimpy, black, lace knickers wielding Sherlock's Hermes, leather belt between her hands-pulling it tight-as her teeth bit into the leather at the center of the accessory. Sherlock, meanwhile, had had his wrists bound together with his navy scarf, his eyes dark and full, and, oh dear God, a rather sizable bulge straining against his pants. Mycroft nearly vomited before stuttering a hasty apology.

Sherlock felt a primal need run through him as he watched Irene, his belt held between her teeth. This being so, it took him a moment to register the noise coming from the side of the room, and curiosity took hold, forcing him to turn his head and look. There, in the doorway to the bedroom, stood his brother, a look of shocked embarrassment clear on his face, his skin slightly gray, and stuttering apologies. Sherlock could do nothing but look at him, uncomfortable awkwardness beginning to take hold. After a few moments, he watched his brother walk away, his hands slightly shaking.

Irene frowned slightly as she eyed Sherlock's sudden shift in tone and mood. She had thought she had heard something-or rather, someone in the doorway, but she had chosen to ignore it for the time being. Noticing Sherlock's awkwardness, however, she chose to turn her hand and study the doorway. She almost burst out in laughter at the sight of Mycroft in the hall, stumbling to locate his words as he turned bright red and huffed in embarrassed, awkward stammerings. She flashed him a wink before mouthing, Best go, Mr Holmes, unless you want to see a show.

Sherlock watched in mild shock as his brother walked away from the door and back down the hall, his demeanor stiff, like that of a person experiencing shock. Slowly, he turned his head back to Irene, watching her for any indication of what she felt from that. Gradually, his mind began to work through the cloud of (now muted) desire, and he began to see something amusing in that encounter. Mycroft, who had tormented him most of his life, had just seen Sherlock in a way that he had never wanted to see, and while others would find it embarrassing, mortifying, even, Sherlock merely found it amusing. Sure enough, a laugh managed to escape from him, breaking the silence of the room.

A slow grin spread across Irene's face as she studied his features, trying to deduce the plethora of emotions and mixture of feelings that were sprinting across his features. As soon as she heard his low, sardonic, almost evil chuckle, however, her grin immediately broke into a deep laugh, echoing his quite accurately. "Well, someone's going to have a few nightmare's tonight." She commented darkly, snapping the belt between her hands with a smirk.

"I must say that he has deserved it, with all that he put me through as children. Besides, it is of his own fault that he did not announce himself before entering." Sherlock replied, slowly raising himself to his feet, his wrists still bound by his scarf. Sherlock watched as Irene walked toward him, her hands reaching out and gently undoing the knot. Before she could pull her hands away, however, Sherlock caught her wrists in his long fingers, pulling her closely and pressing his lips to hers, a soft whisper of 'later' passing between them. Pulling away, silence fell on the room as they began to ready themselves to talk with Mycroft.

Irene smiled at him, his the sense memory of his lips still tingling through hers. He had become so tender, so sweet, his old walls had crumbling the Berlin wall. She shook her head, dislodging herself from her overly sentimental train of thought. She sighed heavily, "I could slap that brother of yours...And not the way I slap you. Doesn't he know it's rude and highly cruel to interrupt a good fuck? He'd make a wretched client...His mobile would probably go off and he'd pause to answer it." She grumbled, crossing to pull a bra out of the top drawer of the dresser.

"Hmm..." Sherlock replied, his fingers working on the small buttons of his purple shirt, "Actually, I overheard John and Lestrade talking at a crime scene, and I ever so wish I hadn't heard it, but Mycroft actually doesn't take his phone into the bedroom. Lestrade seemed shocked." Sherlock shook his head slightly, finishing up with his shirt and turning to Irene.

Irene chuckled as she rummaged through the closet for a blouse. "Perhaps the man isn't so ice frozen as we all assume." She murmured, glancing over at Sherlock, who was absentmindedly doing up her absolute favorite shirt of his. The plum-purple D&G slim fitting one, that stretched across his chest so perfectly. The buttons always seeming to beg to pop, and good Lord, did she wish they would. She growled at him, "Sherlock I'm beginning to think I'm rubbing off on you..." She began, "That's just...cruel. Using sex like that..." She scolded, wondering if he knew just how wet that him in that shirt made her.

Sherlock smirked at her words, knowing exactly what it did to her. Quickly, he finished buttoning his trousers and stepped over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Just think of it as a little... teaser for when my brother leaves." He said, his voice taking a rough undertone as he looked into her eyes.

Irene groaned and pushed him away playfully, "You're wicked, Mr Holmes." She hissed, giving him a wink and murmuring, "Don't make put on my battle-dress, dear," before turning to finally decide what to actually wear for the day.

Sherlock smiled as he watched her picking out her clothes before turning away, looking in the mirror and trying to get the tangles out of his hair. "Don't bother, Miss Adler. John's not here to oggle you, and I'm certainly not going to." he replied, his eyes darting toward her form in the mirror, trying to gauge her reaction to his words.

Irene, still having her back to him, cocked a brow and smirked in slight, mock offense, scoffing softly. She swallowed and took a beat before retorting calmy, "Perhaps you're right, Mr Holmes..." She began, turning around to face him slowly, "John would certainly know how to...appreciate me and my talents...Perhaps I'll give him a ring..." She smirked in jest, beginning to cross to her phone in empty threat.

Finally giving up on his hair, Sherlock turned to her, pulling her back against his chest and pressing his lips down her neck. "Give me time, and I can most certainly appreciate your talents." He whispered, sucking lightly on her skin.

She couldn't help but grin at him as she nuzzled her face against his chest, "You had better, my darling." She murmured into his sternum, before pulling back to lean up and kiss his chin playfully.

"Mmm..." He hummed, tilting his head to catch her lips quickly before pulling away. "We need to go talk to my brother, dear. Are you ready?" he asked, holding his hand out for her to take.

She sighed, "Yes, yes, let me just slip on a dress." She replied crossing to the closet and grabbing a somewhat more loose-fitting, yet still very retro-styled dress to don. She considered putting on heels but then decided against it, she'd have to get used to be flat on her feet if she was, in fact, with child. She walked back over to Sherlock and turned her back to him, "Mind zipping me, dear?" She purred.

Smiling, Sherlock zipped her dress smoothly, doing the eye hook at the neckline as well. "Beautiful." he murmured, looking at her fully. Her hair was down, flowing naturally down her back, she was barefoot and looked so relaxed. He wished that she could stay this way forever.

She offered her his hand and flashed him a grin, "I'd be lying if I'm not looking just a little bit forward to seeing Mycroft's face in a moment. Though, do, keep me from smacking him." She winked.

"I shall do my best, but no promises. It would be so nice to see him get slapped, just once." Sherlock joked, grabbing her hand and walking out of the room and down the stairs to meet Mycroft in the sitting room. Upon entering, it was obvious that he had yet to fully get over what he had seen, if his tense stature was anything to go by.

Irene adopted her usual, sharp, coquettish, and slightly amused face, aiming it at Mycroft severely. "Hello Mr Holmes, Senior, I do hope you enjoy the show. I can give you my business card if you ever feel the desire for a...session." She flirted at him mockingly.

Feeling himself flush slightly, Mycroft cleared his throat and looked at the pair of them on the couch. "Yes, that was rather-" he cleared his throat again before continuing, "As you both know, looking at the days since the possible conceivement, you are able to test today. It would be wise, however, to get a second opinion from a professional with either a blood or urine test, but I figured you both would be more comfortable with the home test first." With this, Mycroft pulled a First Response Pregnancy Test from his briefcase. "I had Anthia pick this up yesterday. She felt that it would be the best for an accurate answer." He said, handing the box to his brother.

"Mycroft, you mentioned a blood test. I- I cannot do the test, surely you can understand. I would not be able to look at the samples without hoping for there to be something, and I may make a mistake. Somebody else will need to test it." Sherlock said, passing the box over to Irene and looking down at his hands.

"I understand, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, "Which is why I have employed Doctor Watson as the one to test it. Now, before you say anything," He continued on, seeing both Sherlock and Irene's head snap towards him in shock, "I have not told him who the blood is going to be from, only that he will be looking for signs of pregnancy, early signs. I am sure that he believes it to be Anthia, or some other woman. He has no reason to expect you, Miss Adler." Mycroft finished, looking at her directly.

Irene swallowed as she turned the box around in her hands, sighing softly to herself. She glanced at Sherlock and gave him a private look before turning to Mycroft. "Thank you Mr... Mycroft. Truly." She murmured quietly. "I suppose I should take my leave and get this over with. I'll leave you boys to chat." She muttered, stealing one last glance at the man she loved before walking slowly to the lavatory, her mind silently wishing that she had Kate here for some sort of source of comfort as she took the test and waited.

Sherlock looked after her as she walked away, taking in her slightly shaking shoulders and slow, careful steps, before sharing a look with his brother and rushing to catch up with her. "Irene, you won't be alone in this. I'm here. I know it's not the same as having another woman here to share the experience with, but I'm not going to leave you now, not for this." He said, squeezing her hand and they reached the bathroom.

Irene blushed slightly, giving his hand a squeeze before silently thanking him with her eyes and teasing him, saying, "Dear God, you've gone soft on me, Mr Holmes. Whatever will I do with you now?" She chuckled gently, before leaning up to press a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Would you have me any other way?" He whispered back, pressing his lips to her forehead, his eyes closing as he took comfort in her presence.

She bit her lip, "God, Sherlock, please don't tempt me so...How can I not make a 'hard on' joke now?" She laughed, thankful that he was able to make her laugh so easily. She reached out to squeeze his hand once more before turning around to enter the bathroom.

Irene sighed as she shut and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment of brief reflection. It was almost too ironic and unbelievable to be true. Her, Irene Adler, taking a pregnancy test!? The thought of having children was obscene...disgusting, too time consuming to ever cross her radar. She had honestly thought that she was too selfish a person to ever want to take care of another, as her own. At least, until she had met him. The Man that had changed everything. She shook her head and chuckled ironically at herself, before crossing to the counter as she opened the box. She took the test out, turned it over in her hands to examine-unable to keep from reminding herself of Sherlock when he twiddled things in inspection in his hands-and then read the instructions. Seemed easy enough. She then went to the toilet and prepared herself to take the test, before sitting down and thrusting the white stick between her legs, sighing as she did her business. Once she was done she stood up, pulled her knickers up and crossed back to the counter to lay it down before washing her hands. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and set a timer for three minutes before walking over to the door and opening it, "All done. Just have to wait now, dear." She murmured somewhat wearily, her nerve of whether she was actually pregnant or not mounting as the seconds ticked by.

Sherlock had waited for a few minutes nervously outside of the bathroom while Irene took the test before she opened the door. Turning to her, he nodded at her words, and silently pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back and burying his face in her hair. Pulling away after a few seconds, he looked into her eyes, his own wide with emotion. "Irene, remember that no matter what this turns out to say, that is still the blood test that is going to be done, for a final answer. And even if you are not, I will still love you, the outcome of this does not change anything. I love you, and that is all." Sherlock whispered, hoping that she believed what he said. Once he was finished, he pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly, keeping his eyes shut and just feeling her presence. Time seemed to pass by slowly, the three minutes of waiting taking longer than an hour seemed to pass. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the timer that Irene had set went off, and Sherlock pulled away from her only after pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Thanks..." She murmured, opening the door and crossing to the counter where her phone was going off. She picked it up and slid the alarm off with a sigh before addressing the stick. She picked it up, not looking at the result right away. She looked at Sherlock, "Want the honours or shall I?" She asked him, her voice shaking slightly.

"How about you do it, it is your body after all. You should know first." Sherlock said, taking her free hand in his.

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath before finally looking down at the test. Her breath hitched and she felt her eye swell with tears as she saw the thin, pink, negative line in the circle at the centre of the stick. She let out a sorrowful and curt laugh, bull of and pain. "Well..." She swallowed, willing the lump in her throat to go down. "Looks like we can turn the nursery into a sex room for us..." She muttered bitterly, trying to keep her voice as even and indifferent as possible as she avoided eye contact with him.

Sherlock tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, her words being exactly what he didn't want to hear. Taking a breath, he took the test from Irene's hand and turned her to look at him. "Hey, it's alright, everything is fine. It's still early on, so we will do the blood test. We knew that there was a possibility that it was going to be this way, and we will make do. But first, let's get the blood test done to see once and for all if you are, and we will go from there, okay. Nothing is set in stone yet." Sherlock said, pulling her into his arms again and willing tears away with force.

She choked back a sob as she nodded silently against his chest taking a moment to collect herself before pulling back and muttering, "O-okay, let's go."

Nodding slightly, Sherlock took her hand and led the way back to the sitting room, pulling her into his lap as they sat down. "Looks like we're going to need that blood test, Mycroft." Sherlock muttered in his brother's general direction as he ran his hands through Irene's hair comfortingly.

"I see," Mycroft said, taking a deep breath, "Well, I figure that in order to have the least risk taken, we draw the blood here and I will have Anthia drop it off with John at St. Barts, if that is alright with you both. I have the required materials with me, so we can get it done with soon." Mycroft said, opening his briefcase to reveal; alcohol wipes, two butterfly needles, a strip of rubber, three tubes to hold the blood, gauze, bandage wrap, and a long, clear tube to connect the needle to the holding tubes. "I was hoping, Sherlock, that you would do it." Mycroft said, looking at his brother and trying to be delicate with what he was saying.

"What, um..." Sherlock stammered, trying to find the right words, "Yes, yes of course. Just, give me 30 minutes to get us both ready, and we should be good. Thank you, Mycroft." He finished, looking at his brother in a silent 'thank you' for not mentioning his past.

Irene glanced at Sherlock, swallowing slowly as she eyed the instruments. "Mmm, already up to needles and blood are we, dear? My, my, you are kinky." She tried to tease, though her heart was not invested. The water in her eyes still swelling at the ache in her chest refusing to subside.

Sherlock could sense that she was nervous, and she was trying to lighten the mood, and so he turned to her fully, placing his hands on her arms. "Hey, look. I know that you are nervous, so am I, but I promise, I will be a gentle as I can be, and I will make it go as quickly as possible. We just need you to sit back with your arm on the armrest, and the rest is done. Okay? Just a few minutes and then we can do whatever you want." Sherlock said, his fingers tightening slightly as he spoke.

She smiled at him softly, "You're too good to me, my love. I know. I've had blood drawn before...Just...never for this reason. Thank you...thank you for being here for me...and loving me..." She muttered, hating herself for being so bloody sentimental as she sat down and laid her left arm on the padded armrest.

Sighing slightly, Sherlock turned around and, with a nod from Mycroft, set to work. He pulled on the latex gloves and grabbed the strip of rubber from the case and turned back to Irene, rolling both of her sleeves up and looking at her again. "Is there a place that is commonly used for taking blood?" he asked, feeling her antecubital for veins. Taking in the small shake of her head, Sherlock sighed and tied the strip around her upper arm and searching again for veins.

Irene glanced down at her arm, swallowing slightly, "Um, I suppose wherever my vein is the largest? Crook of my elbow? Tricep? It's been ages since I've gotten blood drawn. Forgive me, but, mind if I leave it to that clever mind of yours?" She jested half-heartedly, her voice still shaky and torn with sadness.

Nodding slightly at her words, Sherlock continued to press around her arm before settling on one located to the right of her antecubital. Turning around, he grabbed an antiseptic wipe and sanitized the area before grabbing a needle and the tubes. Tensing up as memories began to flood back, times where he stuck himself with a needle, he shook his head, "You can do this, just one prick, you've done it before, nothing bad this time." he muttered to himself. Taking a small breath, he uncapped the needle and slowly pricked her, holding the needle in place as he attached one of the tubes to the end, allowing it to fill before removing and replacing it with the next, repeating this action for all 3 tubes. Once it was done, Sherlock slid the needle from her, placing it in a bag and pressing some gauze to Irene's arm, having her hold it in place while he grabbed the medical tape and wrap. Once it was secured, he wrapped her elbow in tan medical wrap before turning and handing the tubes to Mycroft. "Make sure that John gets these, and nobody else, Mycroft." He said, watching Mycroft place them in a special carrying case.

"I assure you, Sherlock, I will personally hand them to him. Now, I will leave you to... whatever you are going to do. Either myself or Anthia will call you with the results in a few hours, tomorrow at the latest. Just try to relax." Mycroft said, picking up his briefcase and walking out of the room. "Good day, Sherlock, Miss Adler." he called, the sound of the door closing behind him ending his statement.

Irene murmured a meaningful 'thank you' as Mycroft passed, turning to Sherlock as her right hand went to cover the bandage that covered her left arm. Her mouth twisted as she let out a soft sigh, "So, darling, what would you like to do now. All there is left to do is...wait. If you'd like to pop off to the lab and have some alone time, please, feel free." She offered gently, not wanting to monopolise his time. He had spent the past few weeks with her, almost never having left her side. Her old self would have loathed this sudden dependency she felt towards him, and she worried that part of him resented it in himself. So she wanted to offer him a bit of alone time should he desire it.

"How about we go for a walk? Get out of the house for a bit, try and relax, get our minds off of all of this." Sherlock offered.

"Sherlock, really, you don't have spend every second with me if you don't want to...I'll, I'll be fine on my own if you want to go do one of your little experiments, or something..." She pressed, chuckling weakly as she tried to believe her own lie.

"I want to be with you. We've only got a few days left and then I'll be gone. I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Come on, I'll go up stairs and grab your flats and my shoes, okay? Let's go explore the forest for a bit." He said, turning and walking up the stairs, a quick wink sent in her direction.

She glanced down and smiled softly, chuckling slightly as she called after him, "Sherlock Holmes actually wanting Irene Adler's company...My, my I never thought I'd see the day..." She teased, recalling how irritated and frustrated she had used to make him. How tense he used to get at her touch or presence. She bit her lip, a tiny part of her missed being able to torture him so. It was part of their little 'game' after all. Their rather fucked up tango of love and hate...Some perverse form of foreplay that only they could understand and want-need-were born to adopt-their personas and temperaments being so very similar. They were two sides of the same disturbed coin. Yes, they were doubles alright, and they were stuck with each other...at least, she very much hoped so. Besides, she figured once the danger was gone, once Sherlock had fought his demons, and had come...home to her, they could more resume their 'love/hate' relationship, and have a bit more fun teasing and tormenting each other once more. Right now, however, time was of the essence, and words of love and tenderness, care and need, were more far important.

Sherlock smirked at her words, shaking his head slightly as he got to their room. Walking to the closet, he picked up her flats and slipped his shoes on. Putting on his coat, he tied his scarf around his neck and felt in his pocket. Feeling it empty, however, he walked over to the dresser and pulled something from the top drawer. Placing it in his pocket, he walked back downstairs and into the sitting room, handing the flats to Irene.

"Thank you, dear." Irene said, taking the Tory Burch flats from him and slipping them on quickly. "Right, to the garden?" She asked him, snaking her hands into his.

"To the garden." He replied, leading her out of the house. They walked for a little while, talking aimlessly while enjoying the soft sunlight.

She laughed, squeezing his hand as she followed him out the back door and down the stairs into the flowered garden. She took a deep breath of hair and exhaled slowly, relishing in the scent of the fresh garden air. It had been too long since she had been away and out of the city, too long since she had gone back to her baser self. She sighed softly before glancing at Sherlock, speaking carefully, "So, if...if we aren't pregnant...do you...are we..." She huffed, "I don't want you to feel like you have to love me still, or want me still, I...I would never want to handcuff you to me..." She laughed at the irony of the phrase, "I mean, I would. But not if you didn't secretly enjoy it..." She finished finally.

Thinking quietly about her words, Sherlock turned to her. "Irene, I have told you before and I will tell you again, nobody has ever made me feel this way before you, and I doubt anybody ever will. I love you, and nothing is going to change that. Besides, even if I wanted to, I couldn't get rid of you. You'd just come after me." Sherlock smirked, squeezing her hand in his. He knew that she was insecure about their relationship, and he didn't know how to make it so that she trusted that he would always be there, even when he was away.

Irene glared at him for a moment before breaking out in a soft chuckle, "Touche, touche." She murmured as they made their way through the garden. "Well, I'm glad you feel that way, because you're right, you know. I would come after you...If only just to kill you..." She said with a wink.

"Mmm...and we've seen just how that turns out." He replied, chuckling. They continued to talk for a little bit, finally sitting on a stone bench nestled in the edge of the woods.

Irene perched herself next to him, crossing her legs as her narrow eyes examined the horizon. She swallowed as she couldn't help but continue to be bothered by his words from earlier. She licked her lips slowly as she figured how to approach the subject, having no idea, just what exactly it involved. "Sherlock..." She began slowly, turning towards him and wrapping her left hand around his tenderly.

"Yes?" He replied, feeling her tense up.

She took a deep breath in before deciding to fuck it all and broach the subject. She needed to know after all, and frankly, she felt she deserved to know. "Back there...before...When you were drawing my blood...You...you seemed, despite what you asked me, to know...exactly what you were doing...at least when you choose to prick the inside of my elbow...And, and you muttered something...that I...that I'm a bit confused about, to be honest...'you've done this before...Nothing bad this time..." She paused a moment, gripping his hands tightly, afraid of just what she might be about to discover about the brilliant detective she loved so much. "What..What were you referring to..." She asked quickly and suddenly, knowing that if she didn't ask it now, she never would.

Sherlock tensed at her words, the memories flooding back like they had before. He knew that this would happen, knew that she would be curious, and he knew that Mycroft wouldn't have asked him if there was any other way. This was inevitable. "Um..." he took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts, "You have to understand, Irene, when I was growing up... I've always been able to do... what I can do, and when I was in school, I didn't know how to control it, I couldn't help but connect and analyze everything that I saw, and the kids in school didn't really... like that. I would get beaten up, bullied and picked on, and home was no better. Mycroft was the perfect son, always did what Mummy asked, and never questioned the orders. I did. I rebelled, and that made me an outcast.

By the time that I was 14... I was so bored... so easily bored... and I needed an escape... I had heard of some of the kids using cocaine, talking about how it created this feeling of excitement, like they could do anything, and I couldn't resist. I found a person who was willing to sell to a 14 year old, and that was how I got started. I didn't want to do any sensory damage, and so I injected it... I was addicted. For almost 14 years I was using, and then Mycroft found out. He came by the flat that I was staying at unannounced, and saw me with the needle.

He put the pieces together after that, my change in attitude, my mindset, everything. He tried to get me to stop, but I kept using, and he had no choice but to call the police. That's how Lestrade got involved in getting me clean. They eventually managed to get me onto smoking, and after that just patches... mainly... but they both still worried. I was clean for 4 years when I met John...When...when...I found out that you were...that you were ...'dead,' or at least, pretending to be so, I...I nearly, 'fell of the wagon,' as people say, and nearly called my old dealer. They knew that I would be on edge, and so, Mycroft tested me with a cigarette, and...and I took it. After that, John and Lestrade searched the flat for drugs, didn't find any, of course, but their minds were in the right place." He finished, taking a breath and looking off into the trees, tensing as he waited for her response.

Irene's heart swelled with frustration, disgust, sorrow, heartache, and more than anything sheer and utter love for the once drug-addict before her. She searched his eyes for a few moments before reaching her hands up to flank his face as she moved her body to crawl across and onto his lap. "Oh...oh, my darling..." She muttered, before crushing her lips to his with such titanic adornment for him and such...love for the man...she honestly felt as if she just might die. She kissed him as such before breaking away so that he could respond and react fully as he needed to. She licked her lips, "Sherlock...I...I...I had no idea...If I had...I...I would never have...I couldn't have ever done that to you...I'm...I'm so sorry..." She choked as tears began to stream down her flushed, sharp cheeks. She silently cursed herself for getting so emotional, but honestly, this was a matter that she thought deserved such a reaction.

Sherlock caught her face in his hands, brushing her tears away with his fingers before speaking. "Irene... no, it's not your fault... it's my fault. You had no idea about any of that, and how could you? I don't exactly broadcast it. Look, I'm fine now, and I won't be going back, okay. I promise, I will never go back to it. Trust me. Please, don't blame yourself for my time of weakness." He said, pressing his lips to hers forcefully, reassuring himself of his words.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she wiped her tears away with her left hand, before wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his neck, "Don't you bloody dare, Mr Holmes, or I will kill you...And don't you dare think I'm kidding, I know someone-or rather-I know what he likes...-" She couldn't help but tease, kissing the birthmark mole on his neck a dozen times before resting her head against his shoulder once more.

Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he pulled her close to him, burying his face in her hair, whispering 'I love you' over and over to her.

Irene kissed his neck once more before whispering, "God spite me, I love you too, Mr Sherlock Holmes, I love you too." She gripped him tighter, if that was even possible, before leaning back and searching his eyes, her blue/sapphire ones meeting his. She smiled at him weakly, so much pregnant in her heart, so many feelings that she had never wanted to feel for another human; too care so much. "Sherlock...I..." But her voice failed her and she let it rest, biting her lip softly as her left hand unconsciously went to clutch her empty womb.

Sherlock couldn't respond, knowing exactly what she meant. Instead, he gently removed her from his lap and undid his scarf, removing his coat at the same time, and moving to kneel on the ground. Looking at her, with her tear stained eyes and cheeks, he took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Irene Adler, ever since I first saw you, in your 'battle dress' as you call it, I couldn't help but think of you. I know that we do not have much time left to be together, and I know that you have doubts on the basis of our relationship, but I love you, and nothing is going to change that." with this he pulled out a blue box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a beautifully crafted diamond ring, set in white gold and paired on each side with a blue sapphire. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Irene Adler?" He finished, looking into her eyes.

Irene's eyes couldn't help but well at his words, though she almost barely heard them so taken and shocked was she by the teal, blue box and the enormous pearl cut diamond-flanked by two sapphires-nonetheless. She felt the tears roll down her cheeks once again, yet they were birthed out of sheer happiness and joy. A smile broke across her face followed by a short chuckle, "Oh, Mr Holmes...What do you think I'll say? Yes, yes, yes, of course I'll marry you...I...I want nothing more than to be...your Mrs Holmes..." She grimaced suddenly, "Oh God, did I just say that?...We'll discuss the last name thing...But...but, yes, you, frustratingly, brilliant, perfect, beautiful man. I would be honoured." Reaching up to press her lips against his softly, chastely.

Sherlock could feel his heart lift at her words, a smile breaking onto his face. Slowly, he removed the ring from the box and set it down, grabbing her left hand and sliding it on. A perfect fit. Once that was done, he picked her up quickly and spun her around in sheer joy, his lips pressed firmly to hers. Setting her down again, he looked deep into her eyes, whispering "My Irene, my Irene Holmes."

She kissed his lips once more, before pulling back and rolling her eyes, her hands resting against his chest. "Oh, God, I honestly feel like I should be vomiting from the bloody...sentiment...of it all." She murmured softly, resting her forehead against his. "I 'hate' you." She whispered, know full well he would know that words mean the exact opposite.

Sherlock laughed at her words, pressing his lips to hers again. "I love you, too." He said, his eyes alight with happiness.

She giggled-though she was loathed employ that word-and nuzzled her head against his neck. She took a few moments to just...be...To just be with him, closing her eyes tightly. "Sherlock..." She finally murmured, her tone taking on a much darker, sensual mood.

Sherlock could sense the change in her mood, and immediately changed to match her. "Yes, Irene?" He asked, his voice taking a husky tone as he pulled her in tighter against him.

She couldn't help but grin at him wickedly as she repositioned herself so that she was straddling his lap, much like she had that first time she had met him. She licked her lips slowly as her eyes darted from his eyes to his mouth, beginning to feel the throb of need and desire at her core. She pushed him back against the back of the bench as she ground her arse into his groin, "Think, Mr Holmes, it's the new sexy." She husked lowly, moving her mouth around to nibble on his earlobe as her hands snaked through his raven locks, grasping at his scalp fiercely.

"Mmmm..." he groaned, loving the feel of her pulling his hair. "How about we... take this inside..." he managed to get out, his eyes closing slowly.

Irene pulled back a raised a brow. She shifted her hips against him once more, "Do we need to, Mr Holmes? You don't seem...very...'excited' to me..." She murmured, as her hand snaked between them and quickly began to undo his belt and trousers, silently wondering if he would stop her.

"Trust me..." he said "I am most definitely excited." He caught her hand and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her ear. "Think of it this way, love, should we really scar my brother even more in just one day? He did, after all, design this place." He whispered, hinting to the fact of hidden cameras around the grounds.

Irene chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips softly, "Whilst I appreciate you wanting to keep this 'private' and are deterred by the potential use of CCTV cameras, I can assure you, my darling, that I've been in front of a camera before..." She winked coquettishly, before adding, "Perhaps I might just get you behind one as well one day...Make a little 'home' video, etc. But for now, given the 'disgusting' romance of this all, yes, let's retire to our room, I'm about to shag you silly." She replied lowly, launching herself off of him and grabbing his hand as she girlishly tugged him inside.

"I'm counting on it, dear." He replied, following her inside and up the stairs, chuckling as she forced him down onto the bed.

**Sex Scene Starts Here**

Irene straddled him on the bed, her dress hitching up to her waist as she leaned down and kissed his collarbone lightly. Her hands slid up and down his chest, slowly undoing the buttons on his plum shirt, her nails raking down his pale, almost hairless chest as she kissed her way up his neck to his earlobe once more, biting it harshly as the floor of her pelvis ground into his groin.

Sherlock groaned at her ministrations, his hands moving to undo the back of her dress, eye hook and all. "God, Irene..." he whispered as she moved against him, the friction feeling wonderful after he was denied that morning.

She smirked as she felt his member begin to harden beneath her centre. She decided to tease him a bit. "Yes, Mr Holmes?" She purred, running her hands up to pull her dress down over her breasts and torso, thus exposing her bra and chest to him. She then quickly reached down and threw off her Tory Burch flats before getting up off the bed quickly and tugging her dress down and off of her. She glanced back and him and raised her eyebrows suggestively before slowly remounting him once more. She was now only clad in her black, lace, sheer bra and matching knickers. Irene glanced down again at the growing bulge in his trousers and smirked smugly to herself. "Feeling alright?" She asked him 'dumbly,' as her hands slid up to the bit of exposed chest she had granted herself access to before.

"You have no idea." He said, his hands moving to massage her breasts, her smooth skin like silk under his touch. She looked so...ravishing in her sheer undergarments. He groaned as she moved, her pelvis grinding against his still clothed erection.

She couldn't help but chuckle at his more than obvious reaction. She glared down at him, his chest heaving against his purple shirt; his member straining against his trousers. She licked her lips once more before smacking his hands away playfully. She ran her hands behind her back, unhitching her bra in a fluid motion and tossing it aside, allowing her breasts to bounce before him as she ran her hands up her form, and over her breasts-pausing to tweak her nipples before continuing up her neck and into the dark folds of her hair.

Sherlock groaned as she moved, placing his hands on her waist and grinding upwards, lifting himself up to kiss her neck, sucking on the soft skin.

She couldn't help but bite her lower lip as she felt his fingers digging into her hips. She took her hands from his hair and finished undoing the rest of his shirt buttons before tearing the fabric away from his chest and leaning down to run her tongue up his pale abdomen, until she reached his sternum.

A moan tore through Sherlock as he felt her move down, her tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake. He moved his arms to let the shirt fall off, his head falling back, and his eyes closing, the only thing keeping him up was the grip he had on her waist. Slowly, he ground his hips against hers, relishing in the feelings created.

She paused her onslaught of his chest, to chuckle wickedly as she felt his erection rubbing against her apex through his trousers. "Mm, Mr Holmes, are you feeling horny?" She asked his darkly, moving her mouth up to nip along his collarbone as her hands roamed his pecs.

"Mmm..." he moaned, "I'm very... passionate, Miss Adler." he whispered, his hands moving to squeeze her rear as he nipped at her neck.

She nodded against his neck, "Yes, my dear, much to my surprise, and pleasure, you are. However, that bulge in your trousers is getting rather...large, must be...uncomfortable, no?" She husked, kissing her way up his neck and along his jaw bone as she rocked her hips against his pelvis once more.

Sherlock groaned as Irene moved, his head falling back and his arms tightening around her. "God, Irene... please..." he gasped, grinding up to meet her. "I... I need you..."

Irene smirked devilishly to herself, as cruel but oh so tempting idea popping into her mind. She knew that after such a romantic, beautiful gesture, a normal couple would make sweet, adoring love, however, they were not a normal couple, and never would be-God willing. So, Irene as going to take a page out of her old book, and relieve them of a bit of sentiment for a time-they could only take so much emotion, and she knew that as the day that he had to leave came closer and closer, they would surely return to the 'dreaded' S-word. So these thoughts running through her mind, Irene Adler-the once world-class dominatrix, determined to torment her lovely detective for a bit; perhaps, even wait til he 'begged for mercy twice.'

"What's that, Mr Holmes?" She asked, feigning ignorance as she sat back on his groin area and quirked a brow. Her hands slowly, and lazily danced down his chest before landing on his belt buckle and pausing as she glanced up at him innocently.

"I need you, Irene... please, fuck..." he moaned, rolling his hips up to meet hers roughly.

She cocked her head to the side, and adopted a concerned, sympathetic face, "Yes, darling? Whatever do you need? You're not feeling ill, are you? You look quite flushed." She bit her lip in an effort not laugh. God, she was evil, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

Suddenly it clicked, 'oh that little minx', he couldn't help but think, finally catching on to what she was doing. Clearing his throat, he shook his head slightly and replied "What? No, no I'm fine. Bit bored, honestly, but I'm fine. Why do you ask?" He smirked slightly, removing his arms from around her.

Irene narrowed her eyes at him, struck by his sudden reversal in behaviour. She licked her lips as she quickly realised that he had obviously figured out her little ploy, and was counter attacking with feigned indifference and uninterest. Fine, if he wanted to play chess, he had better get ready, because Irene Adler was not one to lose.

"Oh, you're bored are you? I'm sorry, would you like me get you a toy to play with? Your chemistry set, perhaps?" She asked him politely, crossing her arms over her chest as she ever so slowly ground her pelvis floor against his shaft.

Sherlock bit back a groan and forced himself to be unresponsive in her actions as he looked at her. "Hmm... I think I may go compose for a little while, if you don't mind." He replied, searching her face for a reaction.

She quirked a brow, "Oh? Alright then, if that's what you feel like doing, be my guest." She murmured, lifting herself off of him and positioning herself on the empty side of the bed against the headboard.

Smirking slightly, Sherlock got off of the bed and walked to where he kept his violin and sheet music, picking out an unfinished piece and studying it while keeping a slight eye on Irene, his throbbing member not far from his thoughts.

Irene hissed lowly to herself as she watched him get up nonchalantly, the only evidence of his divided mind being the raging tent that was pitched in his trousers. Well, that was something at least. Irene mused to herself, grateful that women didn't have such an obvious problem when it came to becoming aroused. "Well, if you're going to play your instrument, then I'll play 'mine.'" She murmured vaguely, stealing a glance at him as she lazily began to run her right hand down the valley of her breasts, and wondering how long it would take him to deduce what she was about to do.

Sherlock heard her mutter to herself and, knowing exactly what she was going to do, picked up his violin and bow and began to play the melody, his thoughts straying to the woman laying on their bed. Methodically, he played the tune, his fingers brushing the strings subconsciously, allowing his mind to wander.

She eyed him darkly, as he seemed to be focused only on the music in front of him as he plucked at the strings. Her mind couldn't help but recall what those same fingers felt like on her, in her. She groaned internally at him, deciding that she would have to bring the big guns out now. She hummed softly to herself as she slid her hands down and slipped off her knickers, tossing them in his direction 'absentmindedly' before placing her right hand to her inner thigh as she spread her legs open. She then traced circles up it, pausing as she came to her folds. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as as ran her two index fingers up and down her slit, gasping slightly as she felt just how wet she was. She brought then brought her digits up to her clit, which was swollen and pulsing, and circled her fingers around it, before tapping it lightly, a hitched moan escaping her throat at the jolts of pleasure that began to shoot through her body. "Mmm..." She husked, her other hand beginning to twerk her left nipple.

Sherlock's breathing hitched as he heard a gasp and moan come from behind him, his fingers faltering slightly in their movement. He could feel his member throbbing in his trousers, begging to be touched, but instead he continued to play, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself.

Irene opened her eyes for a moment to inspect what Sherlock was focused on, having heard at note slip slightly. She scowled as she saw that his eyes were still intently on the music sheet in front of him. She closed her eyes once more as she began to rub her her clit lightly once more, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise directions. Her breathing increased as her body began to tingle slightly. She then moved her hand down her folds and slowly inserted her middle finger in her entrance, letting out a moan much like the text alert tone she had made for Sherlock's phone as she began to pump her finger in and out of her, her back arching up as her thumb continued its assault on her nub.

Sherlock heard her moan and swallowed, giving in slightly and glancing over at her. He caught his breath at the sight of her, legs splayed and eyes closed, her back arched gracefully, her face slack with pleasure. Moving slowly, he placed his violin down, grabbing a pencil and filling in some measures for the piece, his other hand moving to slowly rub himself through his trousers as he listened to her.

She opened her eyes to look at him, her breath falling short as she did a double take, unable to believe what he was apparently about to use her own medicine against her and touch himself as well. She had only ever heard him talk about having masturbated before, and even then, it was a rare thing for him. She clenched her jaw and swallowed as before closing her eyes once more before beginning to fuck herself harder. "Mmm, fuck...I'm wet...How's your fingering going over there, Mr Holmes?" She murmured, bringing her left hand down from her breast to massage her clit as her other hand continued to thrust in and out.

"It's coming along, if I do say so myself." He replied, his eyes skimming the sheet music and making changes as he went along with the pencil, his other hand increasing its movement as he fought to keep his voice steady. He could hear her breathing increase, smell her arousal, and it was doing wondrous things to his own body.

Irene's breath increased as she fingered herself faster, beginning to feel herself broach the brink of orgasm, "Fuck...Sherlock...I always make myself come so much faster when I'm thinking of you...even before we...ahh, shit...Mmm...got together...Oh, ah...Oh...I'm so close..." She breathed.

Sherlock groaned, putting the pencil down and undoing his trousers, letting them pool around his feet along with his boxers, palming his fully erect member. Turning around, he saw Irene, flushed and near orgasm, and his resolve broke. Quickly, he made his way over to her, moving to pin her hands next to her head, hovering above her. His lips quickly found the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking on the soft skin. "You are so beautiful, Irene... God, I need you." he muttered, breathing deep.

Irene snaked her hands up his chest and to his shoulders, digger her nails into his skin as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her centre hitting his cock suddenly. "I need you too, my love." She husked, her hands moving up to tangle themselves in his hair.

Sherlock groaned as she moved, adjusting himself to massage her breast, taking on of her nipples on his mouth and sucking gently, one hand moving to tease the other one.

She arched her back, her abdomen pressing against his as her grip tightened on his locks, "Uh, fuck, Sherlock..." She moaned, bucking her hips up again. "I...I...Ugh, fuck me. Please, my darling, please!" She begged him.

Sherlock pressed his lips to hers, closing his eyes as he ground into her. "How do you want me, my dear?" he whispered, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth.

Irene thought a moment, momentarily placing her desperate, urgent need for him on hold as she contemplated how she desired him. "Mm, darling, did you...did you like...taking me from behind that one time...?" She asked him curiously, her hand moving up to stroke his flushed cheek.

He did enjoy it, very much. "Yes," he muttered, "is that how you would like it?" He asked, his hands moving to her waist, gripping her tight as his lips moved to her neck again.

She blushed, if that was even possible given how aroused she was and how much blood was flowing through her body. She nodded slowly, "Mm, yes, I, I suppose having been the dominate on for most of my life it's sort of...exciting to to be taken so...roughly..." She murmured, "But only if you get off on it as well, my love." She added quickly, wanting to make sure he wanted it as much as she did.

Sherlock let out a soft, low chuckle at her words, finding it hard to imagine any position with her that wouldn't get him off. "Most definitely." he murmured, moving to sit on his knees so that she could adjust herself as she saw fit.

She flashed him a grin, clambering up onto her own knees as she moved to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before giving him a wink, and turning over to get on her hands and knees. She parted her legs and and caved her back down to thrust her her arse and centre and at him. She turned her head back to glance over her shoulder, "Well, Mr Holmes, I'm waiting..." She husked.

Smirking at her words, he moved to press himself against her, guiding his member slowly into her centre, groaning as he did so. Once he was in, he bent forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her back and shoulders, slowly moving within her. "Irene..." he moaned, his mind lost in clouds of pleasure.

Irene's fingers clutched at the loose sheets of their bed, her hands fisting into balls as she moaned in sheer pleasure and bliss at his arrival. She had been more than ready for him, and he had slid in with ease, though it alway astounded her just how well endowed he was. She was a petite woman and she always found that it took a minute or two for her to adjust herself around him fully. It always took a good few pumps and thrusts to loosen her up; but the titanic pleasure that came after the very brief moments of initial discomfort were so worth it, it didn't even matter. "Mmm, Mr Holmes, you feel so very good..." She husked, thrusting her arse back in eager need and demand for him to begin to pump into her.

Sherlock could feel her eagerness and moved faster, one hand making its way to caress her breast, teasing the supple flesh in rhythm with his strokes. He could feel heat pool in his abdomen, a coil tensing, getting ready to break.

She bit her lip, her breath heavy and forced as she whimpered at each of his thrusts, her body receiving him with such greedy need she felt she would explode. She felt the deep tingling sensation stem from her centre and begin to spread through her core and limbs as she let out a cry of euphoric bliss. "Ah! Sherlock, harder, please..." She begged.

Sherlock heard her cry out and began to pound into her, kissing and stroking in time with his hips. He was so close, one the edge of euphoria, and just needed a small push to make him fall. "Fuck, Irene... I'm so close..." he groaned against her skin.

Irene let out a primitive growl at his words, absolutely adoring hearing those words on his lips. Know full well that she had been the only woman to ever inspire them, that ever would inspire them, in him. She felt her knuckles turning white as she let out a cry of ecstasy, "Fuck, I'm about to come, just...don't...don't...stop...harder...faster...Co me in me, Mr Holmes..." She pleaded, her walls beginning to clench around him.

Her words, coupled with the tightening of her walls sent him over the edge. He slammed into her, white hot ecstasy taking over his mind. "Fuck... Irene!" he yelled, his body convulsing as he rode out his orgasm.

She hung on for a few moments longer, until his sudden, urgent, thrusts sent her over the edge and she fell of whatever ledge she had been standing on, she had now jumped off and was falling-or perhaps, rising-she couldn't be sure-until she crashed onto his shores, her body shuddering beneath him, her walls closing around him once more as she contorted slightly, her toes curling. "Fuck...!" She nearly screamed as she let her orgasm take over.

**Sex Scene Ends Here**

Sherlock felt like he was falling, his body felt weightless as he came down from his orgasm. Gasping unevenly for breath, he slowed his motions before stopping completely, gently allowing himself to fall to the side, head hitting a pillow as he pulled Irene down with him, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

Irene sighed contently, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you..." She whispered.

"And I love you." he replied, holding her hand in his, fingering the ring that now rested there.

She pulled her hand out of his and held it up, admiring the stones and the glint of the diamonds and the sapphires against the overhead light. "Why this specific ring, Sherlock?" She asked him slowly.

Sherlock thought for a moment about his response, staring at the ring. "When we first me, there was a ring on your right hand that held a single pearl. Traditionally, however, an engagement ring has a diamond as the main stone. Because of this, I got a ring with a pearl cut diamond. One thing that you always seemed to mention through texts was my scarf, and what you would do to me with it. That explains the blue sapphires, a reference to my scarf. The design of the band, however, is intricate, woven and complicated, seeming to end yet it continues on someplace else. That represents our entire relationship, the unexpected beginning, to the very... eventful times to come." Sherlock said, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips to the ring gently.

Irene felt her eyes begin to water as she quickly turned over to lay on her stomach, looking at him before letting her tears cascade down, not caring any more, as she brought her hands to his neck and brought her lips to his chastely. She left them there, pressed hard against his for a few moments, before pulling back to search his eyes. "Sherlock...sometimes I truly feel like I was...born when I met you...I know that's, God, it's dreadfully sentimental, but it's true...You gave me life, when I thought I had one. And for that, Mr Holmes, I am ever in your debt."

"And you brought something into my life that I never thought that I would have, Miss Adler... happiness. I was always bored, or working a case, or doing something in the lab, that I never gave myself time for happiness, and for that I thank you. I believe that because of that, we are even in debts." he replied, smiling as he looked into her eyes.

The two laid in bed for what seemed like hours, enjoying each others company and just relaxing as the sun moved from window to window. They had been there for a while, when Sherlock heard it. From across the room, where the dresser was, his cell phone rang. Both Irene and Sherlock tensed as they let it sink in, this was going to be the final answer. Glancing over at Irene quickly, Sherlock got out of bed walked over to the dresser, picking up the phone and putting it on speaker.

"Yes, Mycroft?" He asked, walking over to sit on the side of the bed, taking Irene's hand in his.

"Sherlock." Mycroft said stiffly, swallowing as he swirled a shot or two of whiskey in a crystal class.

"What is it Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, swallowing around a lump in his throat as he squeezed Irene's hand tightly.

Mycroft took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat before replying, "...I...I have the blood test results..."

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes at his brothers words, feeling exasperated. "Yes, dear brother, we figured that was the reason for the call. Now, what do they say?" He couldn't help but bite out, hating that his brother liked to draw things out unnecessarily.

"Are you...seated?" He asked his little brother slowly.

"Yes, now what is it, Mycroft?" he asked again, this time a bit of panic seeping into his voice.

Mycroft sighed, a hint of amusement in the exhale, however, as he said, "Well, looks like I'm going to be an Uncle...Congratulations, dear, brother, you, believe it or not, are going to be...a father."

Sherlock nearly dropped the phone at his brother's words. He could hear Irene gasp beside him, and took a breath to calm himself. "Are you sure, Mycroft? Is that what John said?" He asked quickly, needing to be absolutely positive.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Yes, of course I'm 'sure,' Sherlock! And yes, John was positive. Said the first test was just a false negative and that some hormonal levels measure differently, or some jargon, I'm not sure, and I didn't ask for details. But, Miss Adler, is definitely with child, and I'm assuming, it could only be yours, hmm?"

"Yes, of course it is mine. Thank you, Mycroft." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at his brother's words. He could feel a smile appearing on his face slowly as the news set in.

Irene crawled towards the end of the bed where Sherlock was seated, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed the back of his shoulder tenderly. She pressed her face into the back of his neck as she waited for him to finish the call, closing her eyes as she clutch to him tightly, unable to believe what she had just heard. She, she, Irene Adler, was going to be a mother.

"Well, good, I'm pleased to hear it." Mycroft retorted. "She'll need a follow up appointment in a couple of weeks...John...John...should probably be her doctor...if you agree...If you can face...it...him." Mycroft murmured quietly, taking another sip.

"Yes, we want John to be the physician. I wouldn't trust anyone else." Sherlock replied, closing his eyes to ward off the inevitable emotions that came with a mention of John.

"Good...good. I...I think that would be best." Mycroft agreed softly, almost tenderly. He cleared his throat once more. "Right, well, that's all I wanted to say...I'll leave you two...to whatever it was...Eh, goodbye, brother. If you need me, just call. Good day, Sherlock."

"Good day, Mycroft." Sherlock said, ending the phone call. Placing the phone on the bedside table, he turned to Irene, his eyes wide with disbelief, shock, and mainly love. "Irene..." He whispered, unsure of what to say now.

She clutched her arms around his neck tighter, kissing the back of his neck a dozen times before a low rumble of joyous laughter escaped her chest. "...Hamish?!" She couldn't help but giggle, referencing John's baby name suggestion all those months ago.

Sherlock laughed, "Yeah, Hamish. But, what if, for a girl; Ashlyn? Hamish is a wonderful name, but there is no guarantee that they will be a boy." He replied, offering up a name that had been on his mind since he found out that he might be a father.

Iren bit her lip, thinking his suggestion over a moment before replying, "It's beautiful, Sherlock." She quickly jumped off the bed before climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck from the front once more. She sighed happily, resting her head against his right shoulder before murmuring, "Are you...are you...happy?"

"Of course I'm happy, Irene! I never dreamed of having a child, and you have given me just that! Why wouldn't I be happy?" He asked incredulously, thinking that he had proven already that he wanted her, and their child.

She sighed softly, "Forgive me, dear, I was just making sure, you weren't using me for my body." She teased, leaning up to kiss the mole on his neck fondly.

"Of course not, love." He replied, chuckling slightly. Sherlock reached behind him and pulled Irene around, causing her to sit sideways on his legs with his arms wrapped around her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She pulled back to meet his blue eyes, a darker shade from the recent physical exertion they had just performed, "I love you, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She whispered quietly.

"And I love you, Mrs Irene Holmes" He replied, loving the way the name rolled across his tongue.

_**And there we go! Engaged and pregnant! Sorry for the bit of angst, but we thought that it would be necessary. Anyways, hope you liked it, and if you have any ideas, requests, or comments, just leave a review! Until next time, guys!**_


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